


Boomboxes & Dictionaries

by the_misfortune_teller



Series: Too Much Blood [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Canon Divergent, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom!Derek Hale, Bottom!Stiles, But with fluff to come, College, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Future Fic, Happy Ending, I hope?, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post Season 3, Top!Derek, Top!Stiles, Top!Stiles Stilinski, Vers!Derek, Vers!Stiles, You two really need to talk to each other, angsty, bottom!Derek, make your mind up Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_misfortune_teller/pseuds/the_misfortune_teller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek turns up unannounced following the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/720203/chapters/1335079">You're Gonna Go Far, Kid</a>. Stiles might be a little more pleased about that than he's letting on.</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <b>~</b>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><i>“You know they have these things called cell phones, right?” Stiles complains, pulling his own out of his pocket and waving it at Derek as though it will strengthen his argument. “You could have called or text me or something. Anything, really, instead of just turning up here out of the blue.”</i><p> </p><p>  <i>“I missed you,” Derek mutters, sounding annoyed with himself.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _And if you're scared of the future tonight_   
>  _We'll just take it each hour one at a time_   
> 

The bar is too loud, too hot, too crowded: everything Stiles loves about a Friday night. He’s been dragged away from the bar, and his roommates, by a red headed guy with sparkling blue eyes and is currently grinding up against him on what the bar proudly refers to as a ‘dance floor’ and what Stiles has personally dubbed ‘a slightly less sticky area of the floor with fake beech floor boards’. That’s a bit too much of a mouthful though and he soon forgets all about dance floors and semantics when red headed guy grabs his hips and pulls him closer. Stiles raises his eyebrow and smirks when he feels the guy’s semi erect cock brushing against his hip, and loops one arm around the back of his neck so he can pull him into a filthy kiss. OK, so the guy is cute, and he has no qualms about kissing him, but he just isn’t doing it for Stiles in _that way_. As red headed guy returns the kiss, Stiles realises that no one had really done it for him since he went back to Beacon Hills four weeks ago. He blames that entirely on Derek. Stupid fucking Derek Hale and the quite frankly life altering sex they had.

“Uh, I think your cell is ringing,” Red headed guy tells him, breaking their kiss and leaning close to shout in his ear.

Stiles digs in his pocket, raising an eyebrow when he sees that Toby was calling him. Toby who’s supposed to be out on a date. He’d argued pretty badly with Toby a week after he’d come back from Beacon Hills when Toby had suggested they hit up the bar and ‘have some fun’. Stiles had turned him down, turned him down for the third time that week, content to sulk in his room watching porn instead. For several days afterwards, he’d seriously questioned why he’d thought casually fucking one of his roommates was a good idea. Thankfully they’ve managed to resolve things, but they haven’t slept together once in that time and if he’s honest, he’s pretty pleased that Toby has gone out on a date and probably won’t be giving him the sad puppy dog eyes for the next couple of weeks.

He disentangles himself from Red Headed Guy and make for the door, flashing his hand stamp to the bouncer as he steps out into the cool night air to call Toby back; he picks up immediately, sounding annoyed and slightly panicky when he says Stiles’ name.

“Hey man, what’s up? Thought you were on a date tonight?”

“ _He bailed. Look dude, this guy has turned up at our place. He, uh, looks kind of like that porn star you like, says he knows you._ ”

“Driving a black Camaro?” Stiles asks suspiciously.

“ _Yes! You’re coming home, right? He’s kind of freaking me out._ ”

“Yeah, he does that to people. I’ll be back in fifteen, I guess?”

“ _Is he the guy you hooked up with when you went home last month?_ ”

“Maybe,” Stiles replies vaguely. “I’ll see you in a few.”

Stiles ends the call and scowls at his cell. What the hell is Derek doing in Arcata? Yeah, OK, so he’d written down his address when he’d snuck out of Derek’s apartment after their night together but he’d assumed that Derek would at least have had the sense to call first, rather than making a three hour drive and turning up unannounced. On a Friday night, no less. He sighs, jamming his phone back in his pocket and heads back into the bar, grabbing his jacket from where he’s abandoned it with Hannah and Craig as he gives them his apologies and tells them he’ll see them at home. He’s hoping to slip away without Red Headed Guy noticing him but turns around to find him standing directly behind him.

“So, uh, look, I’ve gotta run,” Stiles tells him, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry man, maybe another time.”

“Michael,” Red Head Guy replies, holding out his cell so Stiles can put his number in it. Stiles sighs and takes it, quickly entering a fake name and number before handing it back and rushing out of the bar. He isn’t interested in hooking up with Red Headed Michael anytime soon, and is far more concerned about what would prompt Derek to drive all the way up to Arcata unannounced.

**:::**

The walk home has left him mostly sobered up, and the sight of Derek and Toby sitting awkwardly on the couch makes him wish that he was still drunk.

“So,” He mutters, glaring at Derek. “You’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“And why’s that exactly?”

“I wanted to see you,” Derek shrugs, shifting uncomfortably and glancing at Toby.

“Yeah, OK. I think I’m going to head out,” Toby mumbles, getting to his feet and looking from Stiles to Derek. “Where are the others?”

“Talking about heading to Sidelines when I left,” Stiles tells him, turning sideways to let Toby slide past him in the doorway.

“You going to be OK, right?” Toby asks in a hushed tone as he rests his hand on Stiles’ upper arm and squeezes lightly. Stiles nods and gives Toby a quick hug before he leaves. “Text me if you need me,” Toby adds, glancing back over at Derek one last time.

“You know they have these things called cell phones, right?” Stiles complains, pulling his own out of his pocket and waving it at Derek as though it will strengthen his argument. “You could have called or text me or something. Anything, really, instead of just turning up here out of the blue.”

“I missed you,” Derek mutters, sounding annoyed with himself.

“See, that right there? Something you could quite easily have told me in a text message,” Stiles sighs, flopping down in the arm chair near the door and kicking off his boots. “You seriously drove for three hours to tell me you missed me?”

“You didn’t say you lived with your ‘friend with benefits’,” Derek mutters, looking down at the floor. “That’s the guy you talked about, right? The one that wants a relationship with you?”

“I don’t tell you a lot of stuff Derek,” Stiles yawns. “Why are you here really?”

“Like I said, I missed you. I wanted to see you.”

“Derek, normal people don’t drive three hours across the state to see someone they aren’t really friends with and slept with once. Especially not at 1am,” He yawns again and stretches his arms wide before continuing. “I’d say you’ve officially crossed over into stalker territory, but I think you earned all your creeper guy merit badges a long time ago.”

“I was – I thought after that night, you might need someone to talk to. To talk about things with,” Derek replies, hunching his shoulders and frowning.

“You thought you might have traumatised me with the sex?”

“You know, if you want me to leave, you can just say.” Derek mutters, looking up at Stiles properly for the first time and scowling. “Instead of bitching at me until I go. I meant after what happened with Deucalion.”

“I know what you meant and I’m fine. Just so we’re clear, that was also something you could have asked me on the phone. You didn’t need to drive all the way up here just to check on me.”

Derek scowls again and goes quiet, glaring at the collection of empty tequila bottles in the unused fireplace. He looks genuinely hurt by Stiles’ comments, and the more Stiles watches him, the guiltier he feels, because if he’s honest, he’s sort of missed Derek too. At least he thinks he’s missed Derek; the more rational part of his brain is telling him he’s just missing sex, not Derek in particular. In retrospect, sleeping with Derek hadn’t been one of his brighter ideas because now Derek’s sitting in front of him and looking thoroughly miserable, the old affection he once felt for him is rushing back. He wedges his hands underneath his legs to stop himself for reaching out for Derek’s hand.

“Thanks for giving a shit,” He mutters, throwing caution to the wind and slipping off the arm chair so he can sit down beside Derek on the couch. “I tried to talk to Scott about what happened. Just the stuff in the woods, nothing about the, um, the whole having sex with you thing. And now he just keeps blowing me off when I call. I don’t think he knows what to say to me.”

“Sorry.”

“For?”

“You wouldn’t have been dragged out in the woods if it wasn’t for me.”

“Huh. Been a while since I’ve seen that.”

“Seen what?”

“The good old fashioned Derek Hale guilt complex,” Stiles laughs, running his hand through his hair and smiling.

“Shut up Stiles.”

“Make me?” Stiles grins again, bumping his shoulder against Derek’s; the physical contact feels nice and he leans into him a little more. Derek just glares at him, glancing down at where their shoulders are pressed together and raising his eyebrow.

“No.”

“So where are you staying?” Stiles asks, nudging Derek’s knee with his own. “Or are you going to drive back home tonight? Now you’ve established I’m fine.”

“Don’t know.”

“Look, it’s –“ Stiles pauses for a minute to check his watch “- nearly 3am, Wow. You can crash here if you want. Drive back in the morning; later in the morning, whatever.”

“Your roommates won’t mind if I sleep on the couch?” Derek asks sceptically.

“Nah, they’ll be cool,” Stiles shrugs. “You don’t have to though. If you don’t want.”

“Don’t want to what?”

“Crash on the couch,” Stiles replies with a glance towards the ceiling as he presses his leg against Derek’s and watches him intently. “You could...”

“Is that really a good idea?”

“Better than sleeping on the couch where my drunk ass roommates will wake you up in an hour’s time. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t know...”

“Dude, I used to share a bed with Scott all the time. It’ll be fine,” He stands up and watches Derek expectantly. “Look, either way, I’m going to bed. You do whatever you want.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns away from Derek and heads out into the hall way, smiling to himself when he hears Derek getting up from the couch and walking towards the door.

“You sharing a bed with Scott is different to sharing a bed with me.” Derek grumbles as he follows Stiles up the stairs. “You’re friends with Scott for a start,” He goes so quiet for a second that Stiles has to glance over his shoulder to make sure he’s still there. “You haven’t had sex with Scott.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Scott’s straight,” Derek replies with a roll of his eyes.

“And you’re no fun,” Stiles shrugs as he turns around and frowns at Derek. “Look, it’s a queen sized bed. You can even put pillows down the middle if it makes you feel better.”

“Why would I want to put pillows down the middle?”

Stiles doesn’t reply, ignoring Derek as he tries to push his bedroom door open, giving it a kick when it inevitably sticks. As much as he loves living with his friends, their rent is cheap for a reason; namely their landlord not giving a fuck about basic maintenance and repairs on the basis that he only ever lets to college students.

“Why?” Derek asks again as he comes to a halt.

“How should I know? You’ve got this look on your face like you think I’m going to jump you all of a sudden. I’m not going to grope you.”

Derek snorts at him and continues loitering in the hall while Stiles shrugs off his shirt and kicks dirty washing into the corner of the room. When it becomes clear that Derek isn’t coming in to the room anytime soon, he glares at him.

“What?”

Derek shrugs, leaning on the doorframe and glaring into Stiles’ room like it has offended him. “It smells like you and that guy in here.”

“Look, you can pull that face and go back downstairs to the couch where ‘that guy’ and my other roommates will come home and disturb you any minute now, or you can get the fuck over it and sleep here.”

Derek purses his lips for a second before pushing off the doorframe and sighing dramatically. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Stiles repeats blankly and pops the button on his jeans, pulling them off and sitting down on his bed. Derek very pointedly looks at the posters on the wall as he closes the door and leans against it. “You’re being weird,” Stiles grumbles, kicking his way under the comforter and blankets.

“No I’m not.”

“So what’s the problem then?” Stiles continues, yanking the comforter aside on the other side of the bed and nodding pointedly at the empty space. Derek scowls at him again and reluctantly sits down on the edge of the bed, keeping his back to Stiles. “Just please lie down. I want to go to sleep and your sulky great ass sitting on my bed looking all morose doesn’t help.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stiles,” Derek sighs, keeping his gaze fixed on wall, because god forbid Derek ever actually make eye contact with someone when he’s speaking to them. “You know how I feel about you. Felt about you. I don't know. Whatever. Just because this isn’t a big deal for you doesn’t mean that it isn’t for me.”

Stiles sighs in frustration and runs his hand over his face before stretching his leg out from under the covers and nudging Derek in the back. “I get it, OK? There’s probably an pretty overdue conversation we need to have here but right now I’m tired and I just want to crash and the way I see it, we can have that conversation in a few hours when it’s a socially acceptable time to be awake.”

“A conversation,” Derek repeats as he gets to his feet and finally shrugs off his jacket.

“Yes, Derek, a conversation. That’s where two people say words to each other without threatening physical harm,” Stiles replies with a smirk. “I realise it’s an alien concept to you.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Stiles counters, realising as he says it that it’s a pretty feeble counter-argument. “You shut up until later on this morning when I’m awake enough to talk about this shit properly with you.”

“Fine,” Derek grumbles, undoing his jeans and pulling them off like the world’s angriest stripper. “Fine. But just so you know, I still think this is a bad idea.”

“You’re a bad idea,” Stiles smirks. “Now go turn the light off.”

Derek does as he’s told and comes back to lies down beside him and pulls one of the blankets free from the cosy little nest Stiles has made for himself; apparently actually getting under the comforter with Stiles is asking too much.

Stiles waits until Derek has stopped sighing and fidgeting in his ridiculous, dramatic way and clears his throat. “Um, Derek?”

“What?”

“It’s not entirely one sided. The feelings thing. At least I don’t think it is,” with that, he rolls onto his side and away from Derek, pulling the tangle of blankets and comforter up over his shoulder. He hears a sharp little intake of breath and waits for Derek to respond. After a few awkward minutes, he feels himself starting to drift off to sleep and if Derek does reply, he misses it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _It's a pretty good night for a drive,_  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> _So dry up those eyes, dry up those eyes_  
> 

The noise of his roommates crashing through the front door wakes Stiles up less an hour later. He pulls the blankets up over his head and groans loudly.

“Are they always this loud?”

Derek’s voice makes him jump; he’s not quite sure how he’s managed to forget that Derek is in his bed, but he has.

“Yeah, kind of. Sorry,” He rolls onto his back and flicks on the lamp on his bedside table. “Were you pulling a Twilight?”

“What?”

“Watching me sleep,” He clarifies with a grin, earning himself a scowl in response. He smirks at Derek once more for good luck and yawns again, closing his eyes and rubbing them roughly. He can feel Derek warily moving around beside him but keeps his eyes closed, hoping that his roommates are going to shut up and go to bed, rather than staying up until seven in the morning like they all had last Friday night.

“Your friend with benefits is talking about you,” Derek tells him quietly; Stiles opens his eyes again and turns over to see that he’s got his head cocked to one side as he listens to something Stiles can’t hear. As Stiles watches him, he goes from looking vaguely put out to seriously pissed off.

“What is it?”

“They’re talking about me now.”

“So?”

Derek goes quiet and glares at the door; a few seconds later, there’s a rhythmless knock, followed by Toby calling his name.

“Stiles!”

“Is sleeping,” Stiles calls back, willing Toby to take the hint and go away.

“You never just sleep on a Friday night,” Toby calls through the door, sounding frustrated. “You’ve got that weird guy in there, haven’t you?”

Stiles sighs loudly and grabs his cell phone off the bedside table, texting Hannah and begging her to remove Toby from outside his room. A few minutes later, there’s some scuffling and complaining from the hall way, followed by the sound of Hannah and Toby clattering back downstairs.

Derek must not be focusing his attention on whatever the hell the others are doing downstairs because he suddenly looks straight at Stiles, his green eyes bright as he stares at him. “You’re not fine,” he murmurs, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Hmm?”

“Earlier. You said you were fine. You’re not.”

“I’m always fine,” Stiles mumbles. “You know that.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“That’s another lie,” Derek tells him; his tone is gentle though, and there’s none of the usual annoyance at being lied to behind his words.

“Whatever. I’m like 80% fine. Happy now?”

“A whole 80% huh?” Derek asks with a small, humourless laugh. “Sounds like you’re doing great.”

“What do you care? It’s not like my being fine or not being fine affects you in any way, shape or form.”

“I care. You know that.”

“No, I really don’t. Because for the last two years, you’ve acted like you hate me. Then, shocker, you’ve suddenly got feelings for me. Which I’m guessing partly influenced your absurd decision to drive all the way up here. So forgive me if I’m a little bit sceptical about you actually caring how I am.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” Derek interrupts.

“Just Scott, like I told you before.” Stiles sighs, fidgeting around as he tries to get comfortable. “And he doesn’t want to know.  I’m not exactly going to tell my dad, am I? He’s already disappointed enough with me. Pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear about how I killed someone.”

“You had to...” Derek starts, a pained expression on his face.

“You know what? That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Stiles tells him heatedly.

“Sorry.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“That stupid Derek thing you do. Where you apologise for stuff that’s not actually your fault,” Stiles complains, kicking Derek in the leg in a way that he hopes emphasises his point. “Could you just, not. It’s not helpful.”

Derek narrows his eyes and glares at him. “You shouldn’t have been dragged into it though.”

“What? Scott’s werewolf crisis?” Stiles yawns. “What was I supposed to do? He’s my best friend. Of course I was going to get involved.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a friend if he won’t talk to you about all this,” Derek mutters. It’s been three years, but there’s still no love lost between him and Scott, Stiles remembers.

“Low blow, man,” Stiles grumbles, punching Derek in the arm. “He’s still my friend, he just doesn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t know what to say to him either if he phoned me up at random to tell me that he’d killed someone. How are you supposed to talk to someone once they’ve done something like that?”

“You still spoke to me,” Derek replies quietly. “After I...after Peter. And Aiden.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Probably?” Stiles shrugs. “Or maybe not. I don’t know.”

“Did you talk to the guy who taught you the magic? About what it did?”

“He’s not been around,” Stiles tells him. “That’s what he’s like though; disappears for a few weeks at a time. You know what’s weird though? I’ve tried doing it again since I came back, the magic, and it’s never been as powerful as – as that night.”

“Maybe it was a fear thing,” Derek suggests; he might be facing Stiles, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid actually making eye contact with him. “Maybe you were able to do it because it was kill or be killed.”

“Maybe,” Stiles replies slowly. He thinks back to the night in the woods; something he’s been avoiding doing since he came back up to Arcata. The funny thing is, he never felt scared that night, not for himself. If he felt anything, he’d felt annoyed at being dragged out into the woods when all he’d wanted to do was get drunk and yell at Derek. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“Sure about that?”

“Not really, no,” Stiles admits. He sighs again and rubs at his eyes; he’s starting to feel more and more confused, more on edge the longer he lies beside Derek being asked gently probing questions about his emotional wellbeing. There’s a long pause, an awkward silence starting to settle over them and Stiles starts to fidget in response, feeling uncomfortable just lying here looking at Derek. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to make a joke or a snarky comment about how Derek has stupid hair, or anything really to break the silence, Derek looks up at him. He’s wearing such a concerned, open expression that Stiles is a little taken aback and the stupid remark he’d wanted to make dies on his tongue.

“OK,” Stiles breathes, twisting the corner of the blanket between his fingers. “OK, so maybe I’m not 80% percent fine, OK? Maybe it’s more like 30% fine.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just nods his head slightly in a ‘go on’ gesture.

“I – I can’t stop thinking about it,” Stiles continues haltingly. “About what I did.” Much to his annoyance, he feels tears starting to prick as his eyes; he rubs hurriedly at his eyes before they can start to trickle down his cheeks. It’s too late though, as Derek’s already noticed and is looking even more concerned.

He turns over quickly and tugs the blankets up over his head, as though that will stop Derek from hearing him cry.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is soft and he feels him move closer to him, leaving just a few inches of space between the two of them.

“Derek, I said I’m fine.”

Derek scoffs and reaches out, curling his hand around Stiles’ bicep and squeezing gently. That’s a bit more than Stiles can handle right now and as Derek tentatively rubs his arm with his thumb he starts to cry in earnest, curling in on himself and wiping his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. He hears Derek murmur his name again as his grip on his arm tightens slightly and he quickly turns over, putting up no resistance when Derek pulls him into a cautious hug.

The feeling of Derek’s arm wrapped around his shoulders just makes things worse; it takes him back to falling asleep in Derek’s bed after everything that happened in the woods and he screws his eyes up, trying to chase away the images of Deucalion’s death. As he sobs, fisting his hand in Derek’s shirt and moving closer to him, Derek just hugs him tighter, making little shushing noises into his hair and rubbing his back.

There’s a sudden, furious knocking at his bedroom door that’s quickly followed by Toby shouting his name again; he exhales loudly in frustration, wanting nothing more than for Toby to get lost. He hears Derek sigh as he disentangles himself from his hug but ignores him, pushing off the bed and hurrying across the room to yank the door open, wiping tears from his cheeks as he goes.

“What now?”

“You were crying,” Toby mutters as Stiles glares at him. “I could hear you.”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to check up on me.” He’s not going to dwell too much on the thought that in order to have heard him crying, Toby must have been standing right outside his bedroom door and really doesn’t want to know what he was expecting to hear.

“You don’t look fine,” Toby continues, leaning closer and trying to peer over Stiles’ shoulder and into the room. He stinks of tequila and is wearing the same mulish expression that usually leads to an argument between the two of them. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks man, thanks a lot. Look, we’re kind of in the middle of something here, so, uh, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“What’s he done to you?” Toby demands, pointing unsteadily towards Derek. “You were fine earlier then he shows up out of nowhere and suddenly you’re crying.”

Stiles glances over his shoulder at Derek; he’s sitting upright with the same oddly concerned expression on his face, looking as though he’s not sure if he should intervene. Stiles turns his attention back to Toby, who’s still glaring at Derek rather than looking at him. Stiles doesn’t like that look; it’s even worse than the mulish gonna-argue-with-Stiles look. It’s the nasty look Toby was wearing the time he got into a fight with his ex boyfriend’s new partner and got them all barred from The Shanty when they’d gone into Eureka.

“He’s the reason, isn’t he?” Toby snaps, finally looking at Stiles again.

“What? What reason? What are you even talking about?”

“You know! The reason why you haven’t wanted to have anything to do with me since you went back home.”

“No. Would you please just go away now?” Stiles tries to push the door closed, but annoyingly, Toby is quicker than him and pushes hard on the other side, forcing him to take a step back.

“Was your dad even actually sick? Or did you just go home to fuck some random creeper?”

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling at Toby; objectively, he knows that Toby is pissed off because he’s been stood up earlier and is painfully aware that by being up in his room and in bed with Derek he very likely making Toby feel even worse. The undoubtedly copious amount of tequila he’s drunk also hasn’t helped improve his mood but still, accusing him of lying about his dad being sick is a low fucking blow. His shock at the accusation must show on his face because Toby blanches for a minute before rallying himself and continuing with his tirade.

“Well, did you?” Toby shouts again. Stiles hears Derek get off the bed behind him, feels the warmth of him against his back as he comes to stand just behind him and scowls at Toby. He wishes there was some subtle way for him to tell Derek not to worry, that he and Toby frequently have loud screaming matches, which is why Hannah and Craig are nowhere to be seen; they’ve seen and heard it all about a hundred times before.

“I think you should listen to Stiles,” Derek tells Toby quietly. “And go away.”

“Fuck you. No one asked you for an opinion. This is nothing to do with you. This is between me and Stiles,” Toby snarls, pushing his way into the room.

“Get the fuck out,” Stiles snaps, letting go of the door and grabbing hold of Toby’s arm; unfortunately, although Toby is shorter than him, he’s also stronger than him and easily pulls out of his grip. He stands in the middle room and narrows his eyes at Derek; which, yeah, Stiles realises that it probably doesn’t look great that Derek is standing there in his underwear looking impressively Derek-like.

“So what was I?” Toby snaps as he wheels around to face Stiles. “Just another name on your long list of casual fucks?”

“Yes,” Stiles yells back. “That’s exactly what you were. Just like I was to you. Because you wanted someone to make Cole jealous. Don’t pretend you’ve got some moral high ground here.”

“You’re a fucking user,” Toby continues. “You knew. You knew that I want – that I wanted more from you but you still went off and fucked some dickhead who doesn’t give two shits about you. You know what you are, Stiles? You’re a user and a fucking douchebag,” He pauses to catch his breath and narrows his eyes. “No wonder you’re incapable of having an actual relationship. You’re barely even fucking human– “

Before Toby can continue with his rant, Derek gives a poorly disguised snort of laughter at his last comment which just serves to set him off again.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He barks at Derek; Stiles rolls his eyes when Derek backs up, like he’s not capable of tearing Toby to shreds. “You know he cried for like a week after he came back after getting fucked by your sorry ass? We all had to hear all about how you’d spent years treating him like shit and now you’re being a head fuck and he doesn’t know what to do about all the secret feelings he’s got for you.”

“Toby!” Stiles snaps; apparently the concept heartfelt and above all, confidential discussions are lost on him. “Get the fuck out of my room. Right now.”

“Don’t you worry,” Toby sneers, “I’ll get out of your room. I’ll get out of your life too while I’m at it". And then once you’re done banging that idiot you’ll have no one to cry to about how sad you are and how much he’s hurt you and boo hoo. Poor ickle Stiles.”

“Out!”

Toby finally, thankfully, does as he’s asked, slamming Stiles’ door hard enough that the framed poster on the wall beside it rattles. Stiles can’t bring himself to look at Derek; he’s had plenty of drunken arguments with Toby in the past and has always given as good as he’s got, not caring whether they’ve got an audience or not. Generally though, those arguments have never resulted in painfully embarrassing information being shared with the wrong people. He’d confided in Toby about his feelings for Derek in a moment of weakness and had never thought for one minute that Toby would have used it against him like that.

“Are you OK?” Derek asks cautiously.

Stiles sits down heavily on the end of the bed; if he hadn’t been feeling like crap before, he definitely is now. He can hear Hannah’s raised voice from downstairs where she’s either trying to calm Toby down or is chewing him out; he’s not entirely sure. Derek sits down beside him, keeping a careful distance between them; he looks as though he’s worried that Stiles might start crying again.

“Can we get out of here?” Stiles asks quietly, rubbing his face before running his hands through his hair. “I really need to not be here right now.”

Derek nods, resting his hand flat between Stiles’ shoulder blades for a moment before getting up to search for his jeans. Stiles ignores him as he struggles into a pair of sweats and his HSU hoodie, tugging the hood up to hide his face from Derek, because he’s got that stupid earnest look on his face again, like he wants Stiles to sit and talk feelings with him and he really doesn’t want to look at that right now. As they make their way down the stairs and past the lounge, he’s slightly mollified when he hears Hannah angrily berating a still raging Toby. He grabs hold of Derek’s sleeve and drags him out of the front door, pausing only to grab his battered sneakers before stepping out onto the front porch and taking a deep breath of the cold night air.

“Want to go for a drive?” Derek asks, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket and nodding towards where the Camaro is parked up on the other side of the street.

“Please,” Stiles nods. He follows Derek to the car, throwing his sneakers down into the foot well, figuring that he can put them on later if he needs them. When Derek asks him where he wants to go, he directs him out of town and up towards McKinleyville and the ocean.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a big ol' shout out and loads of love to [DeCaStDe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCaStDe) because she very kindly previewed this chapter for me and gave me ideas on how to improve it. Love you loads, sweetie - you rock my world! :)
> 
>  
> 
> **~**  
> 
> 
> I R [TUMBLR](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I thought about some things I said_
> 
> _And some I would take back_

It’s cold on the beach, much colder than Stiles was expecting and he pulls his hands up into the sleeves of his hoodie to try and keep himself warm. He’s been living in Arcata for over a year now and is convinced it’s much colder than it ever was in Beacon Hills.

“Is he always like that?” Derek asks, not looking up from where he’s repeatedly digging his hand into the sand and letting the grains run through his fingers.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Stiles sighs, holding one sleeve over his mouth so he can blow warm air onto his hand; he feels like he needs to defend Toby despite everything he’s just said, because even though he’s currently up near the top of Stiles’ mental ‘douchebags I want to punch in the face’ list, he’s still one of his best friends and they’ve never fallen out for longer than a week or so since he met him during freshman orientation week. “He’s drunk and pissed and we used to, uh, you know, pretty much every Friday night before I came home last month.”

“Oh,” Derek goes quiet for a while, continuing to play with the sand. He’s staring at the waves crashing on the shore, a thoughtful expression just visible on his face as the sky starts to lighten behind them. “Why exactly am I head fuck?”

 “Seriously? You know why. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re the one that ran off after we slept together,” Derek shrugs, dropping his handful of sand and brushing his hands against his jeans to get rid of the remaining grains. “Maybe you’re the head fuck.”

“You knew it was just a one off thing before anything even happened,” Stiles grouses; the argument with Toby has left him feeling unusually on edge and he’s really not in the mood to get into it with Derek. “So don’t pretend you’re all hurt that I didn’t stick around the next morning to talk feelings with you. And you know what, if you’d just strapped on a pair when I was still in high school and told me that you liked me then maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. You’re the head fuck, not me,” He glares at Derek, narrowing his eyes as Derek opens his mouth to say something. “And if you say sorry right now, I swear to God, I’m going to punch you in the fucking throat.”

“I wasn’t going to say sorry,” Derek huffs. “I was going to ask why you thought sleeping with your roommate was a good idea.”

“Seriously? You’re going to judge me for something that has absolutely nothing to do with you? Not that it’s any of your business, but he wasn’t my roommate when all that started. And I really don’t know why I’m having to explain myself to you.”

“So you really haven't slept with him since, uh, us?”

“Also none of your business,” Stiles snaps. “And no, I haven't had sex with Toby since you. I haven't done it with anyone.”

It’s just light enough that he catches the self satisfied smile that flashes across Derek’s face.

“Really Derek? You’re going to be smug because I’m not getting any?”

“I’m not being smug,” Derek replies, digging his hand into the sand again and throwing a handful over Stiles’ bare feet. “I just – look, you know I have feelings for you. I wouldn’t exactly be thrilled if you told me you’d come back up here and slept with a load of people.”

“Yeah, well, don’t assume it’s all because of your influence that I haven’t,” Stiles replies grumpily. Because that’s a complete lie; it’s entirely Derek’s fault that he hasn’t wanted to hook up with anyone.

“Lie,” Derek murmurs.

“Oh fuck off,” Stiles sighs in exasperation. He’s gotten so used to not having to deal with werewolves on a day to day basis that he’s forgotten how to convincingly lie to them. Given that at one point in high school, his entire social circle was werewolves or werewolf hunting types, that realisation makes him kind of sad and nostalgic.

Derek laughs quietly and throws another handful of sand in his direction. “You’d be pissed off too. If someone you liked was sleeping with someone that wasn’t you.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my life in high school,” Stiles tells him. “Maybe you should just be grateful that I’m not telling you to fuck off and cutting you out of my life, you hypocrite.”

“I apologised for that.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

Derek falls silent once more and stares out at the ocean; Stiles watches him for a moment before tugging his hood back up and hugging his knees against his chest as he scowls at a pebble a few feet away from them. He tries to focus his mind like Chogan has taught him, tries to channel his energy into moving the pebble, or melting it or something. He doesn’t know why his magic seems to have lost it’s edge over the last few weeks but he’s getting seriously fed up with it. He sighs loudly in frustration, and flops backwards until he’s lying prone on the sand.

“Stupid fucking rock,” He curses under his breath as he rubs his eyes. There’s a sudden crack, loud as a gunshot in the still quiet of the early morning and he sits bolt upright, looking around desperately for it’s source.

“Did you do that?” Derek asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Um,” Stiles gets to his feet and crosses to where the pebble, or more accurately, the two halves of the pebble, are making little clinking noises as they cool. There’s two little puddles of recently molten rock surrounding them. He reaches does the pick one of them up, worried that he’s managed to crack the rock in half when he was thinking more of trying to move it; he’s pretty sure that’s not a good sign in the grand scheme of being in control of his magical abilities. Before he can curl his fingers around it, Derek’s stood beside him, his hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Are you stupid?”

“Slept with you didn’t I?” Stiles mutters. “So I guess I must be.”

Derek just rolls his eyes, like he thinks he's above responding to Stiles' snarky comments. Instead, he nods down at the rock in front of them; “You’ll burn yourself if you pick that up.”

Stiles scowls at him and doesn’t bother telling him that usually he wouldn’t, that he’s learnt how to put the heat _somewhere else_ , that Chogan has taught him how to stick his hand into a fire and not get burnt. Besides, he’s feeling so unbalanced these last few weeks that he might not even be able to do that anymore. He settles for kicking sand over the cooling rock halves and pulls out of Derek’s grasp.

They’re still standing close together, slightly closer than Stiles feels comfortable with and he shifts awkwardly, looking down at his bare feet.

“What now?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” Stiles complains as he wedges his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“I want to kiss you,” Derek admits, reaching out and hooking one finger into Stiles’ hoodie pocket where it brushes against the back of his hand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I want you to,” Stiles replies, taking a step back so Derek is forced to pull his hand away. He turns away slightly when he sees the hurt look that crosses Derek’s face when he realises he isn’t lying; he sighs and looks back at Derek, feeling as though he owes him some kind of explanation, even though he knows deep down that he really doesn’t. “Look, it’s just that I spent a long time thinking I’d got over you, after you told me you didn’t want to know me –“

“I never said I didn’t –” Derek interrupts.

“Could you maybe shut up and let me finish?” Stiles says with a frown. “Because you know what, if you’d bothered telling me how you felt and let me make up my own mind with what to do with that information, maybe we’d be on the same page about all this right now. But you didn’t and we’re not. And you know what, it took me a long time to get over the fact that I actually had the balls to admit that I was into you and then you just told me to get lost.”

“I told you –“

“Yeah, you told me three years later that you had feelings for me and –“

“I still have,” Derek mutters, scowling down at his boots.

“Could you please just stop interrupting me!?” Stiles barks, clenching his fists and glaring at Derek. “Because if you do actually like me or whatever it is then you’ll shut up and listen to what I’ve got to say, even if it involves me telling you that you’re a sack of shit. OK? It isn’t just about what you want.”

Derek nods dumbly, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

“And yeah, so maybe Toby was a douche tonight for telling you that I cried over you when I came back up here, but it’s true. Because I thought I’d finally gotten over you after you made it clear that you were never going to have anything to do with me, and having sex with you just made me realise that I haven’t gotten over you as much as I wanted to. And you showing up here just makes everything – makes me more confused.”

“You regret it then? Sleeping with me?”

Stiles sighs loudly and shrugs his shoulders. “Satisfied my curiosity,” he finally replies, grinning when Derek scowls at him. “It wasn’t horrible, let’s put it that way.”

“Wasn’t horrible?” Derek huffs, jamming his hands in to the front pockets of his jeans. He watches Stiles for a moment longer, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Do you like me?”

Stiles frowns, initially feeling thrown by the question and then annoyed because he knows exactly why Derek is asking it so bluntly; he wants to see if he can hear Stiles lie.

“Does it matter?” Stiles asks, trying to buy himself some time as he tries to remember the technique he used to use to passably lie to Scott.

“It matters to me,” Derek shrugs. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Stiles hisses through gritted teeth, “I like you. But you can wipe that smug fucking grin off your face, because I still don’t really trust you.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look so butt hurt. Last time I trusted you enough to admit that I liked you, you threw it back in my face in probably the most dickheaded way possible. How do I know you’re not going to do that to me again?”

“How do I know you’re not going to sleep with me and sneak out in the night again?” Derek counters. “You knew that I liked you and wanted more from you. And guess what? Waking up on my own the next morning? That _hurt_.”

“I left you a note.”

“That made it worse.”

“What? That makes no sense. Would you rather I’d just ditched completely without any explanation?”

“No!” Derek snaps, a flash of red creeping into his eyes for a second. “I’d rather you’d have stayed there with me and not run off like I was something to be ashamed of.”

“I had to go to the hospital,” Stiles mumbles. He’s seen Derek angry more times than he can count; it used to seem like it was his base state of being back when they first met, but he’s never heard him sounding so wounded or admitting how he feels about something so easily.

“Don’t make excuses. You could have woken me up or gone later. You didn’t have to just go.”

“I wanted to go without speaking to you, OK?” Stiles sighs. “I knew if I’d stayed you’d have wanted to talk about it and about how you liked me and I wasn’t ready for that. Is it so bad that I didn’t want to get hurt by you again?”

“You don’t have the monopoly on feeling hurt Stiles,” Derek says, sounding thoroughly frustrated and fed up. “You’re not stupid, you must at least have guessed how I’d have felt when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Stiles shrugs; he wants to apologise for running out because having Derek standing in front of him with that stupid sad look on his face is making him forget how to think properly. He looks away from Derek, thinking idly that perhaps him running out has finally made them even; it’s not a particularly pleasant thought so he doesn’t say it aloud and settles for glaring at the ocean instead. After several long, awkward minutes, he hears Derek say his name quietly, tentatively as though he’s worried Stiles might cry again

“I wasn’t ashamed,” Stiles murmurs in response.

“What?”

“Before. You said I was ashamed of sleeping with you; I wasn't...I’m not.”

“You didn’t tell Scott about it though,” Derek huffs.

“I don’t tell Scott a lot of things these days,” Stiles replies. “I’m – I don’t know if me and Scott are really friends any more. Not proper friends, anyway. He’s always with Isaac. And the Deucalion thing seems to have just made things worse between us,” He takes a deep breath and glances at Derek. “If I was ashamed, I wouldn’t have told Toby. I think he got sick of hearing about you and how I had a fucking crush on someone again for the first time in like, forever and about how I thought I still hated you a little but I wanted to go back home to see you again anyway.”

“Can we start over?” Derek asks tiredly. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“What do you want to do?” Stiles asks, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“You know what. I want to kiss you,” Derek replies, taking a half step closer. “Can I?”

Stiles regards him for a minute longer before nodding and closing the gap between them. He grabs hold of Derek’s hand and laces their fingers together. He watches in fascination as Derek leans in, closing his eyes as his lips gently brush against Stiles’ own. It’s different to the last time they kissed, he thinks as he gingerly opens his mouth a little, forcing Derek to do the same so he can lick into his mouth; it's slower and sweeter, and not the sort of kissing he's particularly used to. Derek's making delicious little moaning sounds as his tongue brushes against Stiles' own and he curls his free hand around the back of his neck to stop him from pulling away; that just serves to make Derek moan louder.

Huh; kissing on the beach while the sky slowly turns from pink to blue above them. It’s definitely not how he’d expected his Friday night to turn out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this will live up to it's M rating in the next chapter! :)
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr.tumblr.tumblr.](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

“How did you drop your phone?” Stiles asks as Derek finally returns to the Camaro. “You’re supposed to have all these amazing abilities on account of being a creature of the night and you manage to drop your phone without noticing it.”

“I’m not a creature of the night,” Derek huffs as he slams the car door. “Anyway, I was a little distracted. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh I noticed,” Stiles grins, turning his head to one side so he can look at Derek. “I definitely noticed.”

Derek’s cheeks are flushed pink, and Stiles isn’t entirely sure if it’s the last remains of the sunrise that’s causing it or if Derek’s a little embarrassed right now.

“So, um, are you coming back to mine now it’s officially morning or are you heading back home?”

Derek shrugs, wedging his hands in his jacket pockets and fiddling with something. “I don’t know. What are you really asking me back for?”

“Really?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking I was being obvious.”

“You are being obvious,” Derek replies, twitching his keys out of Stiles’ unresisting hand and starting the car. “That’s the problem. I don’t want another one time thing with you, Stiles.”

“No one does,” Stiles laughs, waving his hand about in a dismissive gesture. “I’m irresistible.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” Stiles continues, putting his foot up on the dash so he can brush the sand out from between his toes. “You heard Toby earlier. Everyone wants a piece of this.”

“I heard him say you’ve never had a proper relationship,” Derek shrugs, peeling out of the parking lot in a shower of gravel and sand. “That why you’re being awkward now?”

“I don’t know. Are you asking me to be in a relationship with you,” Stiles snaps, flicking the sand from his fingers in Derek’s direction. “And I’ve had plenty of relationships, thank you. They just haven’t lasted all that long. Which, before you open your stupid mouth and start judging me further, is my choice.

“Wasn’t going to judge you,” Derek sighs, slowing as he approaches an intersection. “Which way?”

“Left,” Stiles tells him, pointing to the narrower of the two roads, as though Derek doesn’t know which way left is. “You were totally going to judge me. I could smell the judgmentalness rolling off you. I’m happy with not having long term relationships. I’m in college, I’m not supposed to settle down with just one person yet.”

“I’m not judging you,” Derek repeats irritably.

“Well how about we head back to my place and you can work on not judging me there?”

“Stiles…”

“De _rek_ ,” Stiles replies, tugging his hood up so he doesn’t have to look at Derek as they drive back into town. He calls out directions every so often but other than that, remains quiet; an awkward silence has descended on the car and he doesn’t like it one bit.

**::**

“You’re seriously just going to leave?” Stiles pouts as Derek grips the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t lure you inside with the promise of a coffee before you go?”

“That depends,” Derek replies, a faint smile ghosting across his face. “Are you actually asking me in for coffee or are you trying out a cheap line?”

“I’ll have you know that cheap lines have worked wonders for me in the past,” Stiles grins before leaning down and retrieving his sneakers.  “Are you coming in or not?”

“Fine. But only for coffee,” Derek huffs. Stiles shrugs and clambers out of the car; he’d forgotten how awkward it is to get in and out of a lowered sports car. Derek, naturally, manages to make it look ridiculously easy and attractive all at the same time.

They tiptoe into the house and through to the kitchen, talking in hushed whispers so they don’t wake Stiles’ roommates

“I forgot about that,” Stiles remarks as he watches Derek pile spoon after spoon of sugar into his coffee.

“Forgot what?” Derek asks as he lifts up his mug and sniffs at the contents; he adds one last spoonful of sugar and gives it a stir before taking a sip.

“The sugar thing. Even I think that’s a disgusting amount of sugar to put in coffee and I ate an entire bag of Reese’s Pieces for breakfast yesterday.”

“ _That’s_ disgusting.”

“How about you just get on with drinking your disgusting mug of sugar that’s been told about the idea of coffee and stop judging my life choices.”

Derek uses the hand not holding his coffee mug to give Stiles the finger, slurping his overly sweet coffee happily.

“Remember that time when you lectured Erica for like fifteen minutes straight about how those cookie crumble frappuccinos she always used to drink were disgusting? And she waited until you were done yelling to call you out on drinking pumpkin spice lattes in front of everyone?”

“I remember,” Derek says with a small smile. “She won’t drink coffee anymore. She thinks it’s dangerous for the baby.”

“She’s probably right,” Stiles shrugs, moving from where he’s leaning against the kitchen table to stand next to Derek. “It’s weird thinking about Erica and Boyd having a baby. I always thought Allison and Scott would be the first of my friends to have kids,” he pauses for a minute and takes a long sip of his own coffee, staring down at their feet as he curls his toes under to keep them warm. “Although I guess Erica and Boyd aren’t really my friends anymore.”

“So call her up. I have her number if you want it,” Derek tells him. “She’d probably like  to hear from you.”

“Doubt it,” Stiles mutters, inching closer to Derek until their arms are just brushing. “Scott doesn’t want to hear from me, why would Erica?”

“She asks about you all the time. Started asking even more after you were back home last month. She comes by the loft a lot right now.”

“She’s dropped out of college?”

“Yeah, for the time being. She, uh, could smell…you. At my place.”

“You mean she could smell that we had sex?”

“Um. Yeah,” Derek admits, flushing slightly.

“So not calling her now. How are you supposed to call up someone you haven’t spoken to in like a year and a half and say, so, hear you smelled my sex juices all over Derek’s apartment, oh and by the way, congrats on being knocked up! I don’t think so.”

“Do you actually speak to people like that?” Derek asks, raising his eyebrow as he tries to hide his smile behind his coffee mug.

“Shut up,” Stiles grouses, kicking Derek in the side of the leg. “Ugh, fine. Give me her number. Maybe when I’m done dying of embarrassment about her knowing we’ve done the nasty I’ll give her a call.”

“I thought you weren’t ashamed,” Derek scowls as he holds out his phone, Erica’s contact details already on screen. Stiles huffs as he takes it from him, glancing up at Derek when their fingers brush.

“I’m not _ashamed_. I just don’t like hearing about how I left _smells_ in your dumb loft.”

“Everyone leaves scents behind. You know that.”

“Yeah? Does everyone leave _sex_ smells in your apartment?”

“Obviously not,” Derek scowls, snatching his phone back from Stiles and shoving it back into his pocket. He takes another long slurp of coffee; Stiles very aware that he’s watching him as he puts his own phone away and turns his attention back to the floor. Derek nudges him gently in the arm, and says his name quietly, questioningly.

“I kind of want to kiss you again,” Stiles blurts out, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“If it’s any consolation, I want you to,” Derek replies, turning towards him slightly.

“But we shouldn’t, right?” Stiles asks, setting his coffee down on the counter and fiddling with a loose thread hanging the pocket of his hoodie. “Because it’ll just make things more complicated, won’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Derek murmurs as he gingerly reaches out and rests his hand on Stiles’ hip. “Are you going to run off again in the morning?”

“It’s already morning,” Stiles replies slowly, taking a tiny shuffling step closer to Derek. “And this is my house. Where would I run off to?”

“Don’t know,” Derek says again, rubbing his thumb against Stiles’ hip and nudging the bottom of his hoodie up slightly until he’s touching bare skin. “You’d probably find somewhere to go.”

“Don’t want to go anywhere,” Stiles tells him, swallowing thickly. Derek’s still rubbing small circles against his hip and the slow drag of his thumb makes him shiver slightly. Taking a deep breath, he finally makes eye contact with him, intending to smile or make a joke to lighten the mood, but Derek’s looking so intense that he just goes quiet. As he watches, Derek nervously licks his lips and Stiles can’t help but track the movement.

“I think I’m gonna…” He murmurs; before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s got his hand around the back of Derek’s neck for the second time that morning and is pulling him in close so he can kiss him. Derek makes a soft, startled noise but returns the kiss eagerly, tightening his grip on Stiles’ hip slightly as he shyly traces the outline of his lips with his tongue before parting them. Stiles is vaguely aware that he’s making little mewling noises that’d he’d probably find stupid if he wasn’t so intently focused on Derek’s tongue in his mouth, and moves his other hand to the small of Derek’s back as he presses up against him.

“Can I…” Derek starts, breaking away from Stiles for a minute and staring at him. And, yeah, kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks is definitely a good look on Derek. “I don’t think I want to go home just yet.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I want you to go either,” Stiles replies, letting his hand slip from Derek’s neck to his shoulder. “Uh, look, you can say no if you want, but do you want to go upstairs. To my room,” He adds as he gestures towards the ceiling, in case Derek is unclear on what he’s being asked to do.

“Yeah,” Derek murmurs after a moment’s hesitation. “OK, yeah.”

“Eloquent,” Stiles teases lightly as they let go of each other; he pushes past Derek and out into the hall. He’s feeling far more nervous than he was a few hours ago when he was last leading Derek up to his bedroom and can’t put his finger on why. He’s pretty confident that they’re going to have sex soon, but doesn’t think that that’s what’s making him nervous; after all, he’s had plenty of sex in his bedroom and aside from his clumsy first few times back in the dorms, he’s never really felt uncomfortable about sex. This suddenly feels very different, and the gentle brush of Derek’s hand against the small of his back as he crowds closer to him isn’t helping any. He tries to think about other things, in a bid to slow his undoubtedly climbing heart rate, because there’s no way he wants Derek taking the credit for making his heart race right now.

Once they’re safely inside his room, he gently pushes Derek against the door; Derek smiles knowingly at him and Stiles wonders if he’s thinking the same thing he is, of another bedroom door a few hundred miles away and what feels like a million years ago. Before his stupid, errant mouth can start asking Derek about that, he surges forward and kisses him, more urgent that before as he presses himself flush against Derek and settles his hands on his hips.

Stiles feels himself starting to get warm, amongst other things, and pauses for a minute to strip off his hoodie, dropping it to the floor beside their feet before hurriedly crushing his lips against Derek’s once more.

“What if your roommates hear us?” Derek asks breathily, pulling away from Stiles for a moment. “I don’t really want to get yelled at again.”

“We’ll just have to be quiet.”

“You? Quiet? Yeah, right,” Derek huffs playfully as he slips his hand beneath Stiles’ t-shirt and traces the lines of his ribs with his fingers. Stiles fidgets a little as Derek continues trailing his fingertips lightly up and down his side; normally he hates being touched there because he’s so ticklish, but Derek’s touch is having an entirely different effect on him, one that he’s definitely not complaining about but sort of wishes his sweatpants weren’t making quite so obvious.

“You’ll have to find a way to keep me quiet,” he replies lowering his head to press a kiss against the side of Derek’s neck and yeah, he’ll openly admit that’s a pretty bad line, as bad lines go. Derek doesn’t seem to share that opinion and just makes an oddly endearing whimpering noise as Stiles mouths at his neck.

“Bed?” He asks thickly, smiling when Derek nods dumbly and pushes him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he’s forced to sit down. “Going to lose your jeans?” He adds, running his hands up the side of Derek’s thighs and across his hips to toy with the button of his jeans.

“Yeah,” Derek replies, looking a little uncertain as he unbuttons his fly and lets Stiles’ push his jeans off his hips. “Is this,” he starts as he steps out of his pants and kicks them to one side. “You’re not going to ditch straight after? If we…”

“Didn’t we just have this conversation?” Stiles asks, cutting Derek off as he leans forward and pushes his t-shirt upwards so he can press a kiss against his stomach. “No, I’m not going anywhere after. And before you ask, ‘cause you look like you’re going to, no, I’m not going to kick you out either.”

“OK,” Derek murmurs, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him backwards until he’s lying across the end of the bed. “OK.”

“Trying to convince yourself or me?” Stiles grins, throwing one arm around Derek’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“I just…” Derek murmurs as Stiles’ nips at his bottom lip. “I don’t want another one time thing, OK?”

Stiles just kisses him again, because he’s still not entirely sure what he wants; his heart is definitely tell him that he wants more than another one off, as are certain other parts of his anatomy, but he can’t help thinking of the Derek three years ago, angrily telling him to get lost, that he wasn’t interested, telling him to get on with his life. Kissing is easier, as there’s no way for Derek to hear a lie that Stiles isn’t even sure he’s telling.

Thankfully, Derek doesn’t question him further and just goes with it, moving around until he’s lying half on top of him as their kiss becomes more passionate. He manages to get one hand up into Derek’s hair and pulls his head back slightly to expose his throat, remembering how much Derek had seemed to enjoy being bitten last time they’d ended up in bed together and grazes his teeth across the thin skin below his ear.

“Am I crushing you?” Derek asks, shivering as Stiles bites harder on his neck. Stiles tries to shake his head, which is made slightly more difficult by having his teeth clamped down on Derek’s neck and reluctantly lets go of him.

“Dude, do you think that because I’m human I’m some tiny, fragile little thing? No, your heavy ass isn’t crushing me. Don’t move!” He adds in frustration as Derek scowls at him and rolls off to one side, before propping himself up on his elbow and resting his hand on Stiles’ hip and nudging his fingers below the waistband of his sweats.

“Sorry,” Derek murmurs, tracing the sharp line of his hip bone while he watches him with interest. Stiles settles for fussing around with his pillow, because having Derek just stare at him is making him a little uncomfortable. “I don’t, you know.”

“Don’t what?”

“Think you’re weak or fragile.”

Stiles just snorts in response and moves closer to Derek so he can kiss him lazily; Derek responds by slipping his hand down the back of Stiles’ sweats, squeezing his ass lightly through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“I can take them off if you want,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips, wiggling around a little and forcing Derek’s hand further down the back of his underwear.

“You don’t have to,” Derek replies, dragging his fingernails lightly over Stiles’ ass and smirking at him when he shivers.

“What if I want to?” Stiles asks coyly.

“Be my guest,” Derek replies, pulling his hand out of Stiles’ underwear and pausing to snap the elastic against his skin.

“You’re looking at me,” Stiles complains as he rolls off the bed and tugs his shirt up and over his head , tossing it onto his desk. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Why do you think?” Derek asks, sitting upright and shrugging off his own t-shirt before laying back down and resting his hand flat on his stomach, just above the waistband of his underwear.

“Because world’s least erotic strip tease does it for you?” Stiles asks sarcastically, shimmying out of his sweats; he pauses for a moment, noticing the way Derek is biting his bottom lip and throws caution to the wind, shoving his boxer briefs off as well and kicking them into the corner of the room. Derek just smiles at him, his gaze flicking in the direction Stiles’ cock for a moment before he leans forward to grab hold of his wrist, pulling him back down onto the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t talk much after that; Stiles is more interested in licking his way into Derek’s mouth as Derek pulls at him until he’s lying half on his chest, rolling his hips against Derek’s and making them both moan in response to the friction. At some point, Stiles isn’t really sure when, Derek moves, flipping him over onto his back and moving to kneel between his legs, running his hands reverently up his thighs and dragging blunt, human finger nails over sensitive skin.

“We’re going to fuck, right?” Stiles asks, trying for cocky but missing, instead just sounding slightly crude even to his own ears but plows on regardless; “Only, as much as I’m into this whole dry humping thing, I’d really, really like you to fuck me right now.”

 Derek wrinkles his nose and sits back a little bit, resting his hands on Stiles’ knees and scowling at him. Stiles jiggles his leg in a bid to get Derek to resume his touching and receives another glare for his troubles. “What? Stop looking so pissed off! Would you rather I’d asked if you were going to make sweet love to me?”

“I’d rather you stopped talking altogether,” Derek sighs.

“Make. Me.”

Derek sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, and Stiles really shouldn’t find that attractive, given how many times he’s been on the receiving end of _that_ look coupled with a generally angry telling off. Derek’s glare softens slightly as he stares down at him; he spends so long just looking down at him, gaze flicking from his face to his crotch every so often that Stiles starts to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Derek must pick up on his discomfort because he murmurs something about Stiles looking good; Stiles just snorts in response because that’s not even the problem. He’s actually very OK with the way he looks these days and is more than happy to be flaunting what he’s got. So maybe he was kind of unhappy with how he looked back in high school, but figures he can’t really be blamed for that when half his social circle consisted of stupidly ripped werewolves. The real problem with the way Derek is looking at him right now is how damn fond and affectionate it is; there’s a shy half smile flickering across his face which Stiles might just find endearing if he weren’t busy feeling so self-conscious.

He settles for hooking his ankle around the back of Derek’s thigh and kicking him until he flops down on top of him and kisses him again. Stiles feels more confident once Derek is no longer just looking at him, more confident with lifting his hips up off the bed so he can press his rapidly hardening cock against Derek’s, making him moan. Resting one hand against the side of Derek’s neck, he can feel his pulse starting to speed up and rolls his hips again, slower and more deliberate. Derek bites down on his bottom lip in response, rolling to one side slightly so he can wrap his hand around Stiles’ cock, slowly stroking upwards and dragging his thumb across the slit. Stiles whines into Derek’s mouth, and reaches out, groping blindly for the lube that he keeps on his bedside table and drops it down on the bed beside them; as good as Derek’s hand feels, slowly working his cock, he needs more than that and nods towards the lube when Derek pulls away to see what he’s put there.

“You sure you want to?” Stiles asks as Derek sits back and picks up the bottle of lube, rolling it between both hands; Derek looks up at him and nods shortly. “Only you kind of look like you’re not sure.”

“I’m sure,” Derek replies, dropping the lube back onto the bed sheets and running his hands up the inside of Stiles thighs. Stiles arches his back slightly, hoping to force Derek’s hands nearer to his cock, but Derek is apparently wise to his plan and moves them outwards instead, ghosting across his hips and up his sides.

“Asshole.”

“Mm hmm,” Derek agrees with a smirk, digging his fingers into Stiles’ sides slightly and laughing when he flinches. He leans down and drags his tongue through the crease of Stiles thigh, first on one side and then the other.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Stiles grumbles as Derek moves to lick a line up his stomach, pressing a kiss just above his belly button.

“Can I?” Derek asks, his gaze briefly flicking down to Stiles’ cock.

“Pretty sure I’ve never said no to a blow job.”

“I’m probably not all that good at it,” Derek adds, looking immensely unhappy as he glares down at Stiles’ dick. “I’ve only done it once before.”

“Well you can stop frowning at it for a start,” Stiles tells him with a smirk as he wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a few lazy tugs. “It’s not as attractive as you think.”

Derek makes a disapproving snorting sound and shuffles backwards a little bit so he can comfortably lean down and tentatively uses his tongue to follow the vein up the underside of Stiles’ cock before licking at the pre come that’s starting to leak more regularly in anticipation.

Stiles shudders as Derek licks slightly too roughly at the head of his cock one last time before opening his mouth wider and swallowing down the first few inches.

Oh, Stiles thinks to himself as Derek wraps his hand around the base of his cock and starts sucking in earnest, yeah, Derek really isn’t that great at this. He bites his lip, and tangles his hand into Derek’s hair instead of saying anything; he’s fairly certain from the way Derek behaved the first time that they hooked up that he’s kind of lacking in confidence when it comes to sex related matters and he doesn’t think pointing out to Derek that he gives mediocre blow jobs will help with that. Just as he’s wondering how to ask Derek to stop without offending him, Derek glances up at him, and fuck, that’s an attractive sight. Because even if giving blow jobs isn’t his greatest gift to the world, Derek has still got ridiculously beautiful eyes which still _do things_ for Stiles and he lets out an involuntary moan in response. Much to his amusement, Derek _blushes_ , like Stiles moaning is stupidly obscene when he’s got his dick in his mouth.

“I really want you to fuck me,” He murmurs, sliding his hand out of Derek’s hair and down the side of his face.

“You want me to stop?” Derek asks as he sits up slightly and Stiles really isn’t sure how to deal with Derek looking so nervous and uncertain.

“I’m going to come if you keep it up,” Stiles replies, biting his bottom lip; strictly speaking, it’s true. He probably would come if Derek kept sucking his cock, but he’s got a feeling it would take a while and he’s feeling impatient and would much rather have Derek do what he knows he’s good at from their previous time together.

He sits up and grabs hold of Derek’s shoulders, moaning and licking into his mouth before Derek can complain; Derek makes a little surprised ‘oof’ noise and Stiles takes advantage of his momentary distraction to run his hand over Derek’s rapidly hardening cock, stroking him through the fabric of his underwear. Derek, thankfully, goes with it, and after a few minutes, moves forward until Stiles is sprawled out on the mattress once again, pinned under his body.

“Could you do me a favor?” He asks when they both pause to catch their breath. “Could you _please_ lose your underwear?”

Derek nods, doing as he’s asked before quickly moving back to lie on top of Stiles, sliding up his body so that their cocks rub together; it’s a little dry and should be more uncomfortable than it actually is; he’s too distracted by the quiet moaning noises Derek is making, by the way he can feel Derek’s cock leaking pre come onto his stomach. Just as he’s starting to get into it, Derek sits up and starts groping around in the sheets for the lube.

“Can I?” He asks, still managing to sound slightly shy as he resettles himself between Stiles legs and uses his knees to push them further apart. Stiles nods eagerly, feeling himself flush as Derek drops the lube again and sucks his index finger into his mouth before reaching down and gently circling Stiles’ hole with his finger tip.

He wonders if Derek can sense when he’s about to get fidgety and demanding, because just before he can open his mouth to complain, or call Derek a tease he’s grabbing for the lube with his other hand and squirting some out onto his fingers.

“I was just about to bitch at you,” Stiles utters in a series of gasps as Derek generously rubs lube over and around his hole, pressing in slightly with the tip of his finger and smirking when Stiles makes an almost pornographic moaning noise. He opens his mouth to say something else, only to have Derek lean forward and cover his mouth with his hand.

“Stop talking,” he demands as he pushes into Stiles with his index finger. Stiles moans again, louder than before and arches his hips up and off the bed. He’s not entirely ashamed to admit that it’s been a few weeks now since his ass last saw any action, from himself or anyone else, and even one of Derek’s fingers feels amazing. The fact that Derek has still got his hand over his mouth and is essentially pinning him to the bed is just making him even harder.

He frowns up at Derek and licks the palm of his hand, not caring how childish the gesture seems; he could swear that there’s a flare of red around Derek’s irises as he stares down at him, but it happens so quickly he almost thinks he could have imagined it. Derek moves his hand in response, nudging at Stiles mouth with his first two fingers. Stiles eagerly opens his mouth and swirls his tongue around Derek’s fingers, whimpering slightly when Derek presses down gently and forces his mouth open further.

It occurs to him as Derek starts to work a second finger inside of him, scissoring them slightly to stretch him open that he must look fucking obscene right now, with two of Derek’s fingers buried in his ass and another two in his mouth, and a guttural moan escapes his throat at the thought. Derek rubs his thumb against the side of his jaw in response, biting his bottom lip when Stiles’ sucks harder on his fingers.

Just as Stiles is really starting to get into sucking on Derek’s fingers, he sits up again, briefly rubbing his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip and smirking at the bereft whimpering noise Stiles makes; a noise that sounds stupid and needy even to his own ears. As he watches, Derek withdraws his fingers momentarily to add more lube before he nudges his legs further apart with his knees and pushes back in; he’s suddenly aware that Derek isn’t even looking at him right now and is staring down at where he’s fucking into Stiles with his fingers, looking almost transfixed. Stiles whines quietly, a noise that quickly turns to a gasp as Derek looks up at him, just as he crooks his fingers and nudges against his prostate, and there it is again, that fleeting flash of red in Derek’s eyes. It occurs to Stiles, as much as anything can while he’s in the state he’s currently in, that he’s never seen Derek lose control of his shift, and that if Derek’s eyes are flashing red, it’s probably not because he’s losing control, but because he’s aware of the affect it has on Stiles. Still, he thinks to himself, it’d be amazing to be so good in bed that he makes Derek lose control. Amazing and probably kind of dangerous, a thought that just makes it even more attractive.

“Fu-ck,” Stiles moans as Derek twists his wrist slightly, causing his fingers to brush over his prostate again. “Fuck. You’re unreasonably good at this.”

Derek blushes faintly before giving him a confident grin, looking so smug for a minute that Stiles can also most hear the phrase ‘I’m the alpha’. “Practice,” Derek laughs, digging the fingernails of his free hand into Stiles’ thigh.

“By yourself?” Stiles asks, reaching for his cock and whining pathetically when Derek gently but rudely slaps his hand away.

“What? Yes of course by myself,” Derek frowns, withdrawing his fingers for a moment and slicking more lube over them. “Who else would I practice _that_ with?”

Stiles tries to shrug but gets distracted by Derek slowly pushing three fingers inside of him and ends up moaning loudly at the stretch and the faint, dull ache that promises to turn into something far more pleasurable within minutes.

“Not fair,” he mutters as Derek wraps his hand around his cock and uses his thumb to smear the few drops of pre come over the head. “Can I watch sometime?” He manages to ask breathily as Derek slowly strokes his dick.

“What?”

“You heard. Move your hand again or I’ll bite you.”

“I like when you bite me,” Derek murmurs, but doing as he’s asked anyway. “Why would you want to watch?”

“Uh, because it’d be hot?” Stiles grins.

“Maybe you could do it to me,” Derek says, sounding shy again. He stills his hand again, just rubbing his thumb against the underside of Stiles’ cock. “Next time? If…if you want to.”

“If I want to,” Stiles repeats dumbly. “So would it just be my fingers, or…”

Derek blushes again, and god, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the fact that he’s making _Derek Hale_ blush about sexual stuff. “Whatever you want,” Derek replies, swallowing thickly.

“Want this,” Stiles murmurs, reaching up and wrapping his arm around Derek’s shoulders so he can pull him down into a hungry kiss. “Want you. In me.”

Derek nods and sits up, rolling his eyes when Stiles makes a little whimpering noise at the loss of contact. “Do you want to,” He starts, looking over at Stiles’ bedside table. “Um, condoms?”

“I’ve got some if you want,” Stiles tells him, following Derek’s gaze. “But I liked it last time, Without,” He watches Derek intently, smiling when he sees the flash of desire that crosses his face. “You did too, right?”

“Yeah. Felt good,” Derek admits.

“So get on with it,” He grins, letting his legs flop open and not caring about how obscene that might look to Derek. Derek nods and grabs for the lube again, squirting a healthy amount out onto his hand and starting to slick his cock; Stiles watches him with interest, fascinated by the way Derek twists his hand up and off his cock, the way his foreskin moves as he does so. If he wasn’t so desperate to have Derek fucking him, he thinks he’d quite like to lie there and have Derek jerk off all over his chest. Deciding that Derek looks like he’s ready, he moves, lifting his leg over Derek’s lap so he can roll onto his front.

“No,” Derek murmurs, catching hold of his hip and smearing lube over his skin. “Don’t turn over.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, fidgeting awkwardly as Derek watches him. “I don’t…I never do it this way.”

“Really,” Derek replies, leaning down and giving him a fleeting kiss. “Please?”

He pulls a face, running his hand up and down Derek’s bicep while he thinks about what to say; the eager and open look on Derek’s face wins him over and after a few seconds he nods, closing his eyes and murmuring ‘OK’.

Stiles doesn’t know where to look as Derek slowly pushes into him, taking his weight on one arm and using his other hand to lift his leg higher. As Derek murmurs his name softly, it suddenly occurs to him that he never really has sex like this, flat on his back and staring up at whoever he’s with. The last time he was face to face with someone was with the girl he dated for a few weeks back in freshman year and, wow, it’s kind of awkward to have Derek staring at him so intensely. He resorts to wrapping his arm tightly around the back of Derek’s neck, splaying his hand across the back of his shoulder and dragging him down and close enough that he can’t make eye contact with him.

“Stiles…” Derek murmurs, pulling back from Stiles’ grip slightly and looking at him as he starts to slowly thrust into him. Stiles turns his head to one side, closing his eyes and focusing on the delicious feeling of Derek’s cock dragging over his prostate. He hears Derek’s breath catch in his throat briefly and the next thing he knows is that Derek’s mouthing at his neck and throat, his stubble grazing the thin skin as he drags his teeth over a particularly sensitive spot.

He’s just starting to think that the position is making it too awkward for him to wrap his hand around his cock like he desperately wants to when Derek lifts his head and presses his lips against Stiles’ own; it’s initially quite a sweet and chaste kiss and if Stiles is honest, it feels really, really weird to be kissing Derek like this. Too intimate for something that’s just supposed to be a casual thing. Or maybe not that casual, but that’s not the point. He’s entirely convinced that Derek has somehow worked out a way to read his mind because before he can pull away and ask Derek to change position or something, Derek’s forcing his tongue into his mouth.

Stiles really likes kissing people; after actual sex and blow jobs, it’s probably one of his favorite things to do, and as he lifts his hips off the bed to meet Derek’s thrusts, it occurs to him that it’s something he really doesn’t do very often when he’s having sex with someone. Not like how Derek is kissing him now, tongue sliding slickly over Stiles’ own as he occasionally sucks Stiles’ bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it before going back to licking into his mouth. He’s a little surprised by how much kissing Derek is turning him on, feels his dick twitching between the two of them, more pre come leaking onto his abdomen.

And then all of a sudden, Derek moves again, and the head of his cock is dragging deliciously over Stiles’ prostate and Stiles hears himself gasp. Fucking gasping, like a heroine in a shitty romance novel. Derek doesn’t seem to react, just keeps fucking him with the same unhurried rhythm, like they’ve got all the time in the world, keeps kissing him intensely, like he might die if he stops now. Or at least that’s how Stiles feels, a realization that surprises him.

He’s sort of aware of Derek murmuring his name between kisses, interspersed with curses muttered under his breath when Derek unexpectedly moves one hand to his neck, curling his fingers around and not quite pressing his thumb against Stiles’ throat. Something must clue Derek in that he likes that slight pressure, a shift in his heart beat or a hitch in his breath because Derek presses a little harder against his throat, running his thumb over his Adam’s apple a few times before pressing into the underside of Stiles’ chin to stop him from moving away from their kiss.

That does it for Stiles really, and he’s not even certain it’s him that’s panting and moaning into Derek’s mouth, not sure if it’s his hands scrabbling at Derek’s shoulders as he tries to pull him closer. One thing he is sure of is that it’s definitely him that’ coming, hot and slick between them as his dick pulses and spurts, essentially untouched.

As he flops bonelessly back against the pillow, Derek lifts himself up to look down at the mess covering Stiles’ stomach before his gaze snaps up to Stiles’ face. Stiles is feeling too strung out to grab at him again which means there’s not a lot he can do to stop Derek staring down at him as he starts to come, his eyes going wide in surprise. He makes a feeble attempt at draping his arm over Derek’s shoulder; Derek takes it as a sign to move closer, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ and murmuring his name as he gives a few last erratic thrusts.

“That,” Derek starts, sliding his hand up into Stiles’ hair and kissing him lazily as he pulls out. “That was…”

Stiles drags him back in for another kiss, not really wanting to know what the sex was to Derek; they kiss for a little longer until Stiles starts to feel uncomfortable with Derek’s heavy weight on top of him and makes a little grunting noise, pushing at Derek’s shoulders until he gets the hint and moves.

“Um,” Stiles mutters, rolling off the bed and avoiding Derek’s concerned gaze. “Bathroom.”

He grabs his sweats off the floor and drags them on; as he slips out of the door, he thinks he hears Derek say something but doesn’t turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/), yo.


	6. Chapter 6

“You done freaking out?” Derek asks the moment he steps back into the bedroom and pushes the door closed behind him, leaning heavily against it.

“I wasn’t freaking out,” Stiles replies, frowning when he sees that Derek has both his underwear and t-shirt back on and is holding his jeans in his lap like he’s expecting to be told to leave any minute.

“I could hear your heart beat,” Derek tells him. “You were freaking out.”

“Well not consciously,” Stiles huffs, flinging himself face down on the bed and burying his face in the pillow. It’s suddenly hit him that it’s nearly 9am on a Saturday morning and that he’s been awake for what feels like about a week at this point.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” Stiles sighs, reluctantly rolling onto his side so it looks like he’s not completely ignoring Derek.

“You went and hid in the bathroom for a half an hour. Something’s wrong. Did I…was it not good? For you?”

“What? No! Of course it was good. Did you miss the part where you made me come without even touching my dick?”

“No, I didn’t,” Derek mutters, swinging his legs around and leaning back against the wall behind the bed. “But I also noticed how you ran off and hid.”

“I wasn’t hiding!” Stiles protests, frowning when he hears the disapproving snorting noise Derek makes. “And stop listening out for me lying,” he adds grumpily.

“Stop lying to me then,” Derek counters, kicking Stiles gently in the leg. “Why did you go and hide?”

“It was weird, OK?” Stiles mumbles after a long pause, turning away from Derek again because it’s easier than having him stare down at him.

“Weird how?” Derek bristles, folding his arms across his chest. Stiles can _hear_ the scowl in his voice.

“It just was.”

“How was it weird?” Derek asks again, in case rephrasing the question makes Stiles more likely to answer it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well I do.”

“Yeah, and what Derek Hale wants, Derek Hale gets,” Stiles grumbles, sliding his arms beneath his pillow. “Look, can’t we just leave it at it wasn’t bad but it was kind of weird?”

“Oh so I’m only ‘not bad’?” Derek persists; Stiles can feel him moving around on the bed, presumably working himself into more of a huff. “I want to know why it was weird. Tell me.”

“God, you’re like a…” Stiles starts, lifting his head of the pillow in frustration before snorting with laughter and looking away from Derek again.

“I’m like what?”

“I was going to say you’re like a dog with a fucking bone,” Stiles grins as he rolls over. “But I figured you’d have probably punched me in the face if I’d actually said it.”

“Probably,” Derek agrees, shuffling down the bed until he’s lying down and they’re face to face. “Please tell me.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs, fidgeting uncomfortably at being on the receiving end of Derek’s intense gaze yet again. “But you’re not allowed to sulk or pull a bitch face or basically do any stereotypical Derek things while I’m talking.”

“I don’t pull bitch faces,” Derek complains, doing exactly that.

“If you say so,” Stiles smirks. “OK, it really wasn’t bad. The sex. That part was great, especially considering I seem to remember you saying you haven’t had a whole lot of sex with other guys –“

“Haven’t had any sex with any other men,” Derek interrupts. “What was weird?”

“I’m getting to it, you impatient jackass. You _looked_ at me,” He says, his words coming out in a little rush. “When you came. Like I was your virgin prom date and you wanted to make it as romantic and sweet and special as possible for me. I don’t think I even looked at the girl I lost my virginity to like that.”

“It was weird because I looked at you?” Derek asks disbelievingly. “What would you rather I’d done? Flipped you over and demanded that you didn’t make eye contact with me?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles grumbles, punching at his pillow to try and make it more comfy. “It was just weird, OK? I told you right before you got your romance on, I never have sex like that. I don’t need someone making googly eyes at me to enjoy sex.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“It is not!”

“If you say so. Is it because – you know you’re good looking, right?” Derek says stiltedly.

“I really truly am?” Stiles asks sarcastically. “Oh thank you, my life finally has a purpose! Yes dickface, I know I’m not hideous. Thanks for the amazing compliment.”

Derek sighs dramatically, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you want me to go?”

Stiles thinks about that for a minute before shaking his head; he hears Derek sigh and smirks into his pillow, knowing that Derek can’t tell if he’s lying if he doesn’t say anything. Not that he is lying, but regardless of whether he wants Derek to stay or not, getting a rise out of him is always fun.

“Stiles,” Derek asks again, prodding him sharply in the shoulder. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You tell me,” Stiles yawns, turning his head to one side so he can see Derek. “You’re the one that’s supposed to be able to hear if I’m lying.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes, Jesus, yes. But what I really want now, more than anything is to go the fuck to sleep,” Stiles grumbles, closing his eyes and hoping Derek will take the hint. “You’re welcome to do the same or go and lurk in your car or whatever it is that you do. I’m not bothered.”

“I want to stay here,” Derek replies, glancing down at where their hands were resting a few inches apart. “With you.”

“Fine. Great. Wonderful. Whatever. Just be quiet so I can go to sleep,” Stiles grumbles, keeping his eyes closed, even when he feels Derek’s fingers brush against his own.

“Make me,” Derek says quietly; Stiles cracks one eye open and looks at him to see that he’s smiling shyly. He gives a dramatic sigh, just to make sure that Derek knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one of those before moving his hand slightly until he can lace his fingers with Derek’s as he closes the distance between them and presses a sweet kiss against Derek’s lips.

“Can we talk about this –“ he lifts their hands off the bed slightly, for emphasis “– later? When I’ve actually had some sleep and feel half way human?”

He hears Derek’s quiet huff of laughter at that comment and smiles as he closes his eyes again, keeping his fingers entwined with Derek’s as he drops off to sleep.

**::**

When he wakes a few hours later to brilliant sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains, Derek is still out for the count. He gently pulls his hand away from Derek’s grip, just catching the little frown that flickers across Derek’s face and waits to see if he’s going to respond. When he doesn’t, he slides out of bed as quietly as possible and slips out of the room.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, he pads down the stairs and glances into the lounge to see if any of his roommates are awake. No one’s in the lounge, but the front door is ajar which means someone’s out on the porch.

Sticking his head out of the door, he’s annoyed to see that it’s Toby, and not Hannah or Craig. Even more annoyingly, Toby notices him before he can disappear back inside the house and pretend that he never saw him.

“Stiles, wait,” Toby mutters, turning in his chair to look at him, dropping cigarette ash all over his pajama pants in the process.

“Dude, I have nothing to say to you,” Stiles grumbles as he steps out onto the porch and folds his arms across his bare chest.

“I wanted to apologize,” Toby scowls, nodding at the battered couch opposite. Stiles scowls at him but reluctantly sits down, shaking his head when Toby offers him a cigarette.

“For what exactly?”

“Come on dude, you know what for,” Toby sighs. “I’m sorry I was a dick and said all that stuff to that guy. I was drunk and pissed off and come on, you know I like you.”

“I like you too, but it doesn’t mean I get to be a dick to you just because you do something I don’t like.”

“I know. I’m sorry, dude.”

“You’re always sorry after you’ve been a dick. Maybe you should try, you know, not being one in the first place,” Stiles mutters as he makes himself comfortable on the ratty couch. “But thanks, apology accepted and all that.”

“You slept with creeper dude again then?”

“Derek,” Stiles corrects automatically. He knows there’s probably no point in denying that he’s had sex with Derek; after all, he’s been to the bathroom and seen the ridiculously large hickey that Derek has helpfully sucked onto his neck, never mind the pretty impressive stubble burn he’s rocking.

“So is this like, a thing now? You and him?”

Stiles shrugs, shuffling around until he’s got his legs crossed beneath him, Indian style, wedging his hands just below the waistband of his sweats to keep his fingers warm. “It feels kind of weird talking about this with you.”

“We’re still friends,” Toby tells him, leaning down and stubbing out his cigarette on the weathered wooden boards below them. “We can still talk about stuff. People. You having sex with creepy people.”

“I don’t know if it’s a thing,” Stiles says at last as he leans forwards and snatches Toby’s lighter off the arm of the lawn chair he’s sitting in, flicking it on and off while he thinks. They both fall silent for a little while; Stiles continuing to flick the lighter on and off while Toby spins his packet on cigarettes between his index finger and thumb and stares off into the distance.

“I’ve never see you hung up on someone like you have been this last month,” Toby says suddenly, jolting Stiles out of the daze he’s slipped into.

“Clearly you didn’t know me in high school,” Stiles replies ruefully. “I was pretty much always hung up on someone.”

“On creeper Derek?”

“For some it,” He shrugs. “Pretty much all of junior and senior year anyway. Before that it was this girl Lydia. I told you about her, remember?”

“And now you’re going to get hung up on him again,” Toby says with irritating certainty. “Hey, maybe he’s like, your one true love.”

“That’s not a thing,” Stiles huffs. “Even if it was, I’ve slept with the guy twice after hating him for like two years or something. That isn’t love.”

“How would you know? Have you ever actually been in love with anyone?” Toby asks, smirking when Stiles scowls at him. “You haven’t, have you?”

“I might have been.” Stiles grumbles. “But you know what?  It’s easier not to not. Be in love with someone, I mean. You just end up getting hurt.”

“Who have you been in love with that hurt you?” Toby asks with a grin. “Spill.”

“What? No,” Stiles replies, flushing angrily. “Just – look, I have been? OK? And it fucking hurt. I don’t want to get hurt like that again.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Toby continues, “Like when you were in love with that barbeque chicken sandwich the other week and you said you wanted to have it’s babies. Like that?”

“Shut up,” Stiles complains, throwing the lighter at Toby’s head and missing. “I’ve totally been in love. In high school. Not with Lydia or anything. That was more like I was in love with the Lydia I imagined; like the actual her? Not so in love with that.”

“So who?”

“Who do you think?” Stiles snaps, nodding towards the house. “I thought – I guess I was kind of in love with _him_ in high school. And not the idea of him, or like a fantasy him or anything. Him as a person, even though I know he’s a dick and kind of an incompetent jackass at times and yeah, he might have bled all over my Jeep on more than one occasion and never even offered to have it detailed or anything –“

“Excuse me? He _bled_ in your car? More than once? What the hell sort of stuff were you into in high school?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles replies, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand. “The point is, despite all that shit, I still knew that I loved his stupid ass.”

“He is good looking, I’ll give you that.”

“No,” Stiles sighs, because that’s not what it was about. “It wasn’t to do with the fact he’s good looking. Which, yeah, he is. You’d have to be blind not to notice that,” as he says that, the words making him flash back the woods. To Deucalion. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought before continuing, “I mean, it’s not like I ignored the fact that he’s fucking gorgeous, it’s just that kind of didn’t matter, you know? I liked him as a person, like in spite of all the stupid, annoying shit he does.”

“But then he fucked it up,” Toby says. It’s not really a question, more of a statement; Stiles has waxed lyrical at Toby time and time again about Derek and how he’s a douche, and yeah, that’s probably a fair assessment of what Derek did.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Stiles replies. “But there were reasons, I guess. I mean I didn’t know that then, but I do now and I don’t know, maybe if things were different, maybe it would be a thing between us now.”

“Doesn’t make it OK for him to treat you like shit just because he had _reasons_ ,” Toby points out as he lights another cigarette.

“I treated him like shit too,” Stiles sighs. “I slept with him just because I could even when I knew he liked me and I didn’t like him back. And then I fucked off in the morning while he was still asleep. I figure we’re even at this point.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s how that saying goes,” Toby says, rolling his eyes. “Two wrongs make a right.”

“What? No it doesn’t…“ Stiles starts.

“Yeah, that was kind of my point. He hurt you, you hurt him and now you’ve got that look on your face like getting into something with this guy is a good idea. It’s kind of fucked up Stiles.”

“Maybe me and him are just kind of fucked up people,” Stiles shrugs. “And I’m not going to get into something with him. I can’t do a long distance relationship.”

“You can’t do any kind of relationship,” Toby points out and there’s still a little hint of bitterness behind the words; Stiles wonders if he should just stop talking about Derek now, realizing it’s a little insensitive to be discussing all this with Toby, because he knows how Toby feels about him and doesn’t want to be an outright dick to him, despite everything that happened in the early hours of the morning.

“Neither can he,” Stiles says at last, staring down the street to where he just see the tops of the trees in the forest beyond the houses. “Maybe that’d work out in the end. We’re both kind of broken.”

“You’re not broken. You’re a dick, but you’re not broken. And even if you were, you really think the two of you are going to fix each other? That isn’t how it works,” Toby replies and Stiles can feel him watching him but doesn’t turn to look at him. “You ever going to tell him any of this?”

“Fuck no,” Stiles says with a snort of laughter. “And I’m keeping any and all alcohol away from you until he’s gone so you don’t get a sudden case of being a drunken blurty dickhead and tell him on my behalf.”

“Fuck off,” Toby retorts, leaning over and flicking ash onto Stiles’ sweats. “When’s he leaving?”

“Um, I don’t know. Today, I guess? I haven’t asked him.”

“If he makes you cry again, I’m going to kick his ass.”

“He didn’t – you know what, never mind,” Stiles says with a sigh. “Don’t get in a fight with him, OK?”

“Not promising anything,” Toby replies mulishly as he glares down at the floorboards for a moment before looking back up at Stiles. “Are we…we’re cool, right?”

 “As long as you don’t come storming into my room again, yeah,” Stiles grins. “I’m sorry too, you know. I know I’ve been a dick too.”

“Yeah, you have,” Toby agrees. “We’ll get over it, we always do.”

They sit in relatively companionable silence for a while as Toby finishes his cigarette, flicking the butt off the porch when he’s done.

“Hug it out?” Toby asks as he stands up; Stiles nods without hesitation, wrapping his arms around Toby’s shoulders as he steps closer. It’s hardly a “bro hug” as Scott would say, and Toby’s clinging a little tighter than is strictly necessary, taking deep breaths as he presses his forehead against Stiles’ bare shoulder. He doesn’t comment on it, just lets Toby hug him for as long as he apparently needs to and when he does finally pull away it feels a little like a goodbye to Stiles. Almost like maybe Toby’s finally put his feelings for him to rest.

**::**

“You were talking about me,” Derek murmurs when Stiles sits down on the bed beside him, kicking his legs under the comforter and blankets as he leans back against the wall.

“You were listening?  You weren’t supposed to be listening. Why were you listening?

“Can’t help it,” Comes Derek’s muffled reply.

“Liar,” Stiles replies. “I know you can turn that shit off. Scott told me.”

“You said my name,” Derek tells him. “I wanted to know what you were saying about me.”

“You realize that’s rude, right? Eavesdropping on other people’s conversations? Just because you’ve got stupid werewolf abilities doesn’t mean you get to use them on me like that.”

“You won’t talk to me,” Derek replies as though that excuses everything.

“How much did you hear?” Stiles asks, his insides going a little cold as it dawns on him that Derek has probably heard his little confession about how he was in love with him in high school.

“Enough.”

“Be specific.”

“All of it,” Derek admits. “I was awake when you went outside. I thought you might have been running away again.”

“All of it,” Stiles parrots back at him, blushing as he tries to pull the blanket back up over his face. “Fucking marvelous.”

“Were you?” Derek asks softly.

“Was I what?”

“You know playing stupid doesn’t suit you. Don’t do it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“So what if I was?” Stiles says quietly, crossing his legs beneath the comforter, trying not to flinch when that puts him in contact with Derek’s hand. “That was then. I’m not now.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmurs, rolling onto his back so he can stare up at the ceiling. “I never – I didn’t realize that was how you felt.”

“Would it have made any difference?” Stiles asks with a sigh. “You’d still have blown me off. Probably blown me off even more in an even more douchetastic way if I’d told you I was in – that I felt that way about you.”

“Are we going to talk?” Derek asks, brushing one finger against Stiles’ kneecap. “About this morning? About this...what this is?”

“Um,” Stiles mumbles as he stalls for time. “There’s something else I kind of want to talk to you about first.”

“What?”

Stiles doesn’t reply immediately, just shuffles down the bed a little until he’s laying beside Derek again.

Derek goes to open his mouth to speak but is cut off by Stiles’ kissing him roughly and working his hand up into his hair.

“This?” Stiles murmurs when Derek makes a confused noise into his mouth and pulls away slightly. He’s very relieved when Derek goes with it, sliding his hands up his back and pulling him closer. It’s not that he’s trying to get out of talking to Derek, not exactly, it’s just that it’s suddenly occurred to him that Derek’s going to leave and go back to Beacon Hills at some point in the very near future and he really, really doesn’t think that he wants him to.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are we ever actually going to talk about what this is?” Derek asks softly as Stiles starts to kiss his way down his neck.

“Eventually,” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s skin. “Can we just – can we not talk about it right now?” He opens his mouth a little wider and sets his teeth against where Derek’s shoulder and neck meet, applying just enough pressure to make Derek moan quietly.

“Why not?” Derek manages to ask between moans.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Stiles complains as he sits up slightly and glares at Derek, getting a raised eyebrow and smirk in response. “Shut up. I’m not being a hypocrite! I just – you’re going to go back home soon and we can talk when you’re there. I kind of want to make the most of this –” He runs his hand down Derek’s chest and slides it under his shirt for emphasis “– before you go.”

Derek watches him for a moment, staring up at him with the slightest hint of a frown before he swallows thickly and nods. “OK.”

Stiles smiles as he leans down and kisses Derek, slow and sweet. He lets Derek take control, lets him lick his way into his mouth, enjoying the slick slide of Derek’s tongue against his own as he tangles his hand in Derek’s hair.

“We will talk though?” Derek asks uncertainly when they eventually pause for breath; Stiles nods as he tries to lean in for another eager kiss only to be stopped by Derek’s hand, flat against his sternum to hold him back as he watches him intently. “We – I need to talk about this.”

“We’ll talk,” Stiles promises, looking from Derek’s eyes to his hand until he takes the hint and moves it. “But first, more of this? Please?”

Derek nods, closing his eyes as he narrows the small distance between them and kisses Stiles softly. Softly quickly flies out of the window though, and before long, they’re both panting and gasping as they grope at each other. Although Stiles is fairly confident there haven’t actually been any claws involved, he still thinks he’s going to look like he’s been attacked by a mountain lion if Derek keeps dragging his fingernails up his back whenever Stiles bites at his neck.

Eventually, and somewhat reluctantly, they break apart again to catch their breath, both of them breathing hard. At some point along the way, Derek has lost his shirt and Stiles can’t seem to stop himself from reaching over and tracing the lines of Derek’s stupidly defined abs. He gets a frustrated glare in return, but chooses to ignore it, figuring that touching Derek’s stomach is nothing considering Derek had his hand wrapped around his dick all of two minutes ago. He moves his hand lower and trails his finger along the waistband of Derek’s underwear, smiling to himself when Derek responds by lifting his hips off the bed minutely, as though he’s seeking contact. He sits upright a little, taking some of his weight on one elbow and runs the flat of his palm across Derek’s abdomen and down his hip. He can feel Derek watching him, but keeps his attention on his own hand as he very slowly and deliberately touches Derek everywhere except where he obviously wants to be touched.

Derek murmurs his name softly as he twists his hips towards Stiles; the slight hint of desperation in Derek’s voice surprises him and he stops what he’s doing, stilling his hand on Derek’s thighs before shuffling further down the bed until he can rest his head on his stomach. As Derek works a hand into his hair, he turns his head slightly and presses a kiss beside Derek’s belly button before ghosting his hand over Derek’s cock.

“I’m not going to bite you if you touch me,” Derek murmurs, tugging lightly on his hair.

“Aww. I like it when you bite me.”

Derek gives a quiet huff of laughter and pulls on his hair again. Stiles kisses the warm skin of his stomach one more time before sliding his hand lower and into Derek’s underwear, and curls his fingers loosely around his cock, jacking him slowly. He’s not trying to get Derek off just yet and stills his hand whenever Derek tries to buck up into his fist in search of more friction.

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s fun,” Stiles replies, stopping completely and moving up to lie beside Derek again.

“No it’s not,” Derek huffs as he grabs hold of Stiles’ wrist and forces his hand back towards his crotch. Stiles laughs at him and bites at his shoulder as he wraps his hand around Derek’s cock once more; he knows he gives good hand jobs and before long, Derek is breathing heavily and arching up into his hand once more. Much to his surprise, Derek suddenly grabs hold of his wrist again and yanks his hand out of his underwear, turning towards him and burying his face against Stiles’ shoulder as he mutters something about not wanting to come yet.

Stiles shrugs and rests his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling as he feels Derek’s stubble scratching against his shoulder.

“When do you want to come then?” He asks quietly.

“Can we,” Derek starts, blushing and shifting awkwardly as he frowns. “Will you, uh, you know?”

“Are you asking me to top?” Stiles asks with a grin that widens when Derek nods, his blush deepening; yep, making Derek blush by talking about sex is never going to get old. “You sure? You’ve never done it before, have you?”

“You know the answer to that,” Derek grumbles, pinching Stiles and scowling at him. “Stop trying to embarrass me. It’s not cute.”

“Fuck you. I’m fucking adorable,” Stiles smirks. “I’ve been _told_.”

“Well they were lying. Maybe they were just trying to get you into bed.”

“Whatever, loser. It worked.”

Derek scowls at him, like Stiles has no business reminding him that he’s not the first person he’s slept with. Stiles just rolls his eyes in response, leaning over and kissing Derek in a bid to diffuse the sudden awkwardness.

“You know it might kind of hurt, right?”

“You know I’m a werewolf and can heal, right?”

“If I’m hurting you bad enough that you have to heal, I’m probably doing something wrong,” Stiles tells him with a frown. “You sure you want to? Doesn’t seem very, um, alpha-y,” realizing that he’s doing the exact thing he hates and making judgments about what Derek likes or doesn’t like because of what he knows about him, because of his personality, because of what he is.

“Yeah, because that dictates every other single thing I do in my life,” Derek huffs. “I could wear women’s clothes and that wouldn’t make me any less of an alpha; it wouldn’t even have anything to do with me being an alpha. If you don’t want to do it, just say.”

“Of course I want to,” Stiles says quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound all judgmental or anything. I’m just so used to you being kind of pushy and domineering and well, Derek. It wasn’t really something I imagined you doing. Wanting to do, I guess, seeing how you haven’t actually done it before.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“We totally can though.” Stiles adds, curling his fingers around the back of Derek’s neck and lightly stroking the wispy hair there, waiting for Derek to make a move. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” Derek murmurs, kissing Stiles hungrily. “Wanted to since, well, for a long time.”

“So lose the underwear,” Stiles grins, sending a glance towards Derek’s tenting boxers. Derek does as he’s told, and there’s something else Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of; telling Derek to do something and having him do it. As he moves to lie back down beside Stiles, Derek grabs the lube from the bedside table and throws it to him. Stiles fumbles the catch, scrabbling for the tube amongst the bed sheets and looks from it to Derek several times, feeling himself blush before he can even say what he wants to.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derek asks suspiciously, watching Stiles as he spins the bottle of lubricant between his fingers.

“Show me,” Stiles asks quietly, holding it out to Derek.

“Show you what?”

Stiles smiles at that; the faint blush and somewhat uncomfortable look on Derek’s face suggest that he knows exactly what Stiles wants to see. “You know what.”

“You want to watch me?”

“Yeah. Can I?”

Derek fidgets uneasily for a moment before taking a deep breath and snatching the lube Stiles is holding out to him. “I, uh, I kind of thought you’d do it. To me.”

“Next time?” Stiles tells him as he tries to stop himself from grinning. Derek’s gaze snaps up at that, his eyes meeting Stiles’ own and fuck, that guarded-trying-not-to-look-too-eager expression on Derek’s face is kind of breathtaking. Watching Derek, he realizes that he really, really wants there to be next time, apparently just as much as Derek does. And maybe a time after that, and another one after that…

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“Do you want there to be a next time?”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Answer the question,” Derek demands, rolling to his side and staring at Stiles.

“I –“ Stiles starts, leaning over and trying to kiss Derek again; Derek shakes his head in response, lightly grabbing hold of Stiles’ bicep and holding him at arm’s length.

“No. You don’t just get to kiss me and distract me. Do you want there to be a next time? Yes or no?”

“Yes, fuck, yes. Just – just stop quizzing me about it!”

Derek nods shortly before using his grip on Stiles’ upper arm to pull him down on top of him, lifting his hips off the bed slightly so his cock rubs teasingly against Stiles’. Stiles dives back in for another kiss, grinding down against Derek as he bites at his lower lip. He feels a shiver go through him when Derek moans into his mouth and wraps one arm around his shoulders and the other around the small of his back, pulling him close as they continue to rock against each other.

“So you’re going to let me watch, right?” Stiles asks impatiently as Derek mouths at his neck. Derek nods, his hair tickling Stiles’ cheek as he loosens his hold on him, letting him pull away and kneel up.

Stiles settles himself cross legged between Derek’s legs, shuffling forward slightly when Derek drapes his thighs over Stiles’ own.

“I feel weird,” Derek complains, throwing one arm over his eyes and failing to quite hiding the blush on his cheeks. Stiles doesn’t reply, just runs his hands up and down the inside of Derek’s thighs a few times. Annoyingly, Derek is right; the whole situation feels weird and slightly too intimate and it suddenly dawns on him that he’s never asked anyone to let him watch them like this before. It leaves him wondering why, despite the weirdness, that it also feels kind of right to be watching Derek like this. It’s a pretty annoying feeling, and he really, really doesn’t want to address it right now.

Derek fidgets as he watches him, fiddling with the cap on the lube, opening and closing it a few times before snapping it shut and gripping the tube tightly in one hand.

“Give it,” Stiles murmurs, holding his hand out and nodding towards the lube. Derek passes it to him after a moment’s hesitation and looks up at him expectantly.

“I thought you wanted to watch me.”

“I do; I’m going to. But seeing how you’re just kind of lying there looking uncomfortable, I thought I’d get you started,” He grins as he dispenses a small blob of lube onto his fingertips and drags his thumb through it, coating it liberally. “If that’s OK?”

Derek nods and props himself up on his elbows so he can watch as Stiles leans forwards and slowly drags the pad of his thumb over his hole. Derek makes a strange bitten off whimpering noise and arches his back and Stiles feels obliged to repeat the same move a few more times to see if he can get Derek to make _that_ noise again; he smirks when Derek whimpers each time.

“Your turn,” he murmurs, dropping the lube onto Derek’s firm stomach and sitting back. Derek takes a few deep breaths before he snaps the lube open and squeezes some out onto his fingers, using his thumb to evenly distribute it. As Stiles watches, he lifts his hips slightly and arches his back so he can reach behind himself and starts to push in slowly with one finger.

Stiles has been expecting the sight of Derek fingering himself to be hot, but the mental image doesn’t even come close to how amazing he looks right now. He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watches Derek, admiring the way his dick is resting against his leg, having softened somewhat in the last few minutes.

“Touch me?” Derek asks breathily as he arches his back a little further and works his finger deeper inside himself. Stiles nods, reluctantly releasing his grip on his cock and sliding his hands up Derek’s thighs, grinning when he moans at the contact. Leaning further forward, he runs the flat of his hand over Derek’s cock, pulling back sharply when Derek tries to twist away from him. “Too much,” He murmurs, giving a small laugh. Stiles nods again and sticks to stroking his hands over Derek’s thighs and hips, watching him intently.

“Jesus, do you know how hot you look right now?” He asks quietly as Derek starts to work a second finger inside himself; Derek just grunts in response, keeping his arm over his face. Stiles might not be able to see his eyes, but he can see the flush that’s still covering his cheeks and starting to spread down his neck and chest. “You look fucking beautiful.”

“Yeah, well I feel weird,” Derek replies testily. “No one’s ever asked to watch me before.”

“Their loss,” Stiles murmurs as he bites his lip and watches Derek, tracing the sharp line of his hip with his fingertips. “You only ever use two fingers?”

Derek finally lifts his arm away from his face and looks at him, nodding briefly. “Tried three once,” he replies, sounding shy, “but it, uh, hurt.”

“Not surprised,” Stiles grins, lunging forward and grabbing for Derek’s free hand, twisting it from side to side as he looks at his fingers. “Have you seen the size of your fingers?”

“You didn’t complain,” Derek tells him with a scowl, his movements slowing as he watches Stiles. “Why are you talking to me? You’re making me feel even more weird.”

“So stop,” Stiles shrugs, letting go of Derek’s hand and drumming his finger tips on his thigh. “I can help. If you want.”

Derek regards him for a minute before nodding and withdrawing his fingers a little more quickly than seems comfortable. “Yeah, OK.”

“Please, be less enthusiastic,” Stiles grins, leaning forward to retrieve the lube from where Derek has dropped it. As he scrabbles amongst the blankets for it, Derek sits bolt upright, curling his, thankfully, clean hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and pulling him in for an intense kiss. Stiles returns the kiss for as long as he can, until his back starts to complain about the awkward position he’s in; he raises an eyebrow at the disappointed little noise Derek makes when he pulls away and sits back, making himself comfortable as he pushes Derek’s thighs further apart and stares down, admiring the view in front of him. Derek puts one arm behind his head, watching Stiles with interest as he slicks up his fingers; apparently feeling self conscious only happens when it’s his own fingers in his ass.

It takes him hardly any time at all to get two fingers inside of Derek, gently scissoring them and stretching him open. He finds Derek’s prostate with ease and presses against it lightly, grinning when the sensation makes him gasp in surprise.

“Can I try?” He asks with a small smile, holding up his free hang and waggling three fingers at Derek, waiting impatiently for his response. Derek nods, just once, taking a deep breath as Stiles hurriedly adds more lube and lines up a third finger. “Dude, you have to relax,” He adds when he sees the concerned expression on Derek’s face. “It won’t feel good if you don’t relax.”

Derek nods again and exhales loudly, as though he’s trying to prove how relaxed he is; Stiles shakes his head and smiles, watching Derek’s face closely as he works another finger inside him.

For all Derek’s making the right noises, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying things as much as he was before and after a few minutes, Stiles rolls his eyes and switches back to two fingers and reaches for Derek’s cock, which has lost all of it’s earlier hardness.

“You should tell me if you don’t like something,” He says quietly as Derek lets out a moan that sounds far less forced than it did a few minutes earlier.

“I did like it,” Derek murmurs. “I think.”

“You just like –“

“Like this better,” Derek finishes, arching up into Stiles’ touch.

“Bet I could get you off like this,” Stiles hums, curling his fingers until he makes Derek gasp again as he strokes his cock in long, unhurried movements.

“Don’t want you to,” Derek says quickly, his brow creasing in concern. “I want you to fuck me.” He blushes as he says it and Stiles has to bite the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that threatening to spread across his face, because Derek getting embarrassed when he curses really is kind of adorable. Thinking of Derek as being adorable seems like dangerous territory and he shakes his head slightly, reminding himself that this is just about sex and that he’s not going to fall for stupid Derek Hale again.

“Think you’re ready?”

Derek considers his question for a moment, and Stiles can feel his muscles clenching around his fingers as he nods. “I don’t – how are we going to do this?”

 “I don’t want to hurt you,” Stiles tells him as he continues slowly fucking his fingers into Derek, twisting them and crooking them upwards every couple of strokes.

“You can’t hurt me,” Derek gasps, fisting his hands in the sheets. “Not properly anyway.”

“I don’t want to any kind of hurt you,” Stiles frowns, scissoring his fingers one last time before slowly pulling them out and smiling when Derek makes a quiet keening noise. “I actually kind of want to make it good for you too you know.” He disentangles himself from Derek’s legs and straddles his hips, leaning forward and kissing him as their cocks brush against each other, drawing another moan out of Derek. “Move over,” he adds when he pulls away, “let me lie down.”

Derek obliges, rolling onto his side to make room for Stiles and smiling shyly as he wraps one arm around his stomach. Stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s wrist, circling the bone a few times before it dawns on him how over familiar the gesture is and how it’s undoubtedly going to give Derek the wrong idea about what all of this is. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you, not cuddle you,” He says, lightly pinching the skin of Derek’s forearm and pushing him away.

He moves up the bed until he’s half sitting against the pillows and looks pointedly at Derek. “It’ll probably hurt less if you’re on top.” Derek looks unconvinced as he sits upright and frowns at Stiles. “Plus then you get all the control your crazy alpha ass apparently needs.”

“I’m not a control –“

“Come on,” Stiles says, cutting him off as he smears his cock with lube and pats Derek on the hip with his free hand. Derek takes the hint and straddles his thighs, watching Stiles intently as he strokes his dick.

“Thought you didn’t like me looking at you,” Derek mutters.

“It wasn’t the looking at me that was the problem. It was the looking at me like I’m your virgin –“

“Virgin prom date,” Derek huffs. “Got it. Won’t do it again.”

“If I’m hurting you, you’ve got to stop,” Stiles tells him softly, putting his hand on his shoulder as he shuffles forward slightly.

“I will.”

“Not sure I believe that,” Stiles replies, his words coming out in a breathy groan as Derek starts to slowly sink down onto his cock. And fuck, for all he’s spent time preaching to people that condoms do absolutely nothing to reduce sensation, being inside Derek without one feels completely new and amazing. “Need a minute?” He asks when he finally bottoms out, trailing his fingers lightly up and down Derek’s arms.

“I – uh, yeah,” Derek admits, leaning forward and capturing Stiles’ lips with his own. Stiles twists a corner of the blanket beneath them between his fingers as he tries to pretend he’s a patient person, tries not to lift his hips off the bed and thrust up into Derek before he’s ready. After a period of what feels like about nine years to Stiles, but is probably closer to a few minutes, Derek starts to move; small, slow rocking movements, obviously trying to get accustomed to the new sensation.

Stiles has topped plenty of times before, in plenty of different positions, but doesn’t think it’s ever felt as intense as this. He tries to rationalize what he’s feeling, telling himself that it doesn’t really feel all that different and that he’s probably just overwhelmed because it’s Derek he’s fucking, his stupid high school crush and control freak alpha werewolf and that it’s a combination of the two that’s making this feel like something more than just sex. He’s trying to convince himself of that, trying to stamp out the little fluttering feeling in his chest he used to get around Derek when Derek rolls his hips in a pretty devastating way and pulls him in for an oddly sweet kiss, stifling the moan that threatens to escape his lips.

“God, you’re actually trying to torture me,” Stiles complains as Derek starts to bounce on his cock, lifting himself on his knees slowly and methodically. “You’re actually torturing me with the slowest sex in the world. Are you trying to kill me?” He grabs at Derek’s hips, trying to make him go faster, but Derek is, frustratingly, just as heavy as he was _that_ night in the pool and Stiles thinks in annoyance that he’d probably have more success convincing a mountain to move faster.

“Shut up,” Derek murmurs, grabbing hold of his wrists and pinning them against the pillows as he continues to rock against Stiles, speeding up when Stiles tries, pretty feebly if he’s honest, to pull his wrists from Derek’s grip.

“Can’t touch you now,” Stiles smirks, wiggling his fingers and thrusting up into Derek as he leans forward and bites at his neck. “And I can still talk.”

Derek makes the stupid huffy, growling noise in his throat that Stiles really shouldn’t find so attractive and lets go of his hands, scowling down at him. Stiles just smiles sweetly at him as he wraps his hand around Derek’s cock, trying to match Derek’s rhythm with his hand. He finds himself getting distracted by how different Derek’s cock feels to his own, the slick slide of his foreskin as he jacks him; surprisingly, Derek’s the first guy that he’s slept with who’s uncut and he finds his dick fascinating.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is sharp, slightly sharper than is probably necessary, but he kisses Stiles hungrily when he snaps out of his little uncut cock induced trance and works one hand up into his hair, tilting his head back so he can return to grazing his teeth against his neck. Stiles’ can’t seem to do anything to stifle the little “ah’s” and curse words that he keeps uttering whenever Derek lifts himself up slightly before slamming back down and rolling his hips against Stiles’.

Derek’s movements are getting more urgent now, more desperate than he had been earlier when he was slowly fucking Stiles like he had all the time in the world and if he wasn’t concentrating so much on how good it feels to be buried balls deep in Derek, Stiles might find the way he’s lifting himself up and slamming back down kind of painful. Mostly though he’s trying to focus on not coming too soon, on keeping his hand tight on Derek’s cock as he listens to the increasingly needy moaning sounds slipping out from between Derek’s lips.

“Derek,” He sighs, hearing the word leave his mouth before his brain can stop it; and regretting it almost immediately when Derek stares at him, an uncertain smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Too much, he thinks to himself; too weird. As he watches, unable to look away, Derek’s brow starts to creases, his mouth falling open as he comes, making an incredible noise that Stiles doesn’t think he’d ever be able to describe properly if he was asked, his gaze locked on Stiles’ eyes as his cock starts to spurt, covering Stiles’ hand and stomach; thick white stripes against pale skin.

Stiles has barely got time to think about how gross it feels having Derek’s come pooling in his belly button before the feeling of Derek’s muscles fluttering and clenching around him as he strokes him through the aftershocks of his orgasm push him over the edge and he has to let go of his hold on Derek’s cock so he can grab his hips, thrusting up into him roughly and erratically as his own orgasm punches through him.

When Stiles finally releases his hold on his hips, Derek moves to one side, wincing when Stiles’ cock slips out of him and flopping down so he can bury his face against the pillow.

“You alright?” He yawns, extending his hand and carding his fingers through Derek’s hair as he fidgets beside him, trying to get comfortable. Derek makes a happy little whining sound and leans in to the contact, chasing Stiles’ hand when he goes to move away.     

“Can I use your shower?” Derek asks, sitting up and shifting awkwardly when Stiles’ pulls his hand away, his expression darkening for a moment when Stiles smirks at him. He knows exactly why Derek is looking so uncomfortable right now, what with this being his first time bottoming and the distinct lack of condom.

“Down the hall,” He replies, grabbing a dirty t-shirt from the floor and wiping his stomach clean. He raises an eyebrow when Derek snags his sweatpants and pulls them on but doesn’t comment. As he listens to Derek padding away down the hall, he grabs his cell from the pocket of the jeans he’d worn the night before, scowling when he saw the time and hoping in a sleepy, disconnected way that Derek didn’t bump into Toby outside the bathroom. Before long, the exhaustion of the strange night and day he’s been having takes over and he falls asleep to the faint sound of the shower running.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks! I've loved writing this and hope people have enjoyed reading it. I'm contemplating a sequel, but it'll probably won't see the light of day until after season 3 is at least half way finished!

Stiles wakes up to find Derek pressed up against him, tracing the lines of his tattoo with a fingertip. He doesn’t move, tries to keep his breathing as slow and even as it would be if he were asleep but he still doesn’t fool Derek who moves closer, nipping and licking at the back of his neck.

“Can we talk now?” Derek murmurs, his stubble scratching against Stiles’ neck.

“Do we have to?” Stiles asks as he gingerly tries to pull away from Derek’s grip.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah we do.”

“You want to, you mean,” Stiles replies sullenly. He’d be quite happy to continue not talking about whatever this is between while continuing to have lots of great sex with Derek whenever the opportunity presents itself. He gets the feeling though that Derek really, really wouldn’t be into that, given everything he’d said when they’d hooked up the first time.

“Yes. I want to. You know I want to.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got this feeling that you’re going to ask me for something I really don’t think I can give you,” Stiles says as he pushes Derek’s arm away from him.

“I’m not asking for anything. I just want to talk,” Derek tells him quietly, taking the hint and widening the gap between the two of them as Stiles sits up.

“So talk.”

“Why don’t you? Want something more? Not with me, just in general?”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re opening with? Because I don’t, OK? I don’t do relationships and just so we’re clear, even if I did, I’m not sure I’d want to do one with you.”

“But you’re quite happy to have sex with me?”

Stiles snorts and shrugs, looking around the room for his sweats because he’s not really sure he wants to be naked in front of Derek right now. Annoyingly, Derek is still wearing them and he’s reduced to tucking one of his blankets tightly around his waist. “So? You’re obviously pretty happy to fuck me too. Or get fucked. You haven’t got some moral high ground here.”

“I never said I do. I just want to talk about this, about us.”

“Derek, there isn’t an us. We’ve had sex a few times, that’s it. There’s nothing more there than that.”

“Because you don’t want there to be,” Derek huffs, moving to the edge of the bed and sitting up, his back to Stiles.

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. And you know perfectly well why that is. Look, don’t get me wrong, I like you, and I definitely like having sex with you, but I don’t trust you. You seriously hurt me.”

“Nearly three years ago,” Derek snaps. “You can’t keep holding that over my head and using that as an excuse not to talk about things. And you know what? You hurt me too, and I think you know that. You knew how much it’d hurt when I woke up and you weren’t there. And you knew that I don’t sleep around, you knew how big a deal that was for me.”

“Oh boo hoo. So I didn’t hang around for bacon and waffles. You’ll get over it. People have one night stands every fucking day and get on with their lives.”

“Not me. I don’t. And I told you that before anything even happened.”

Stiles scowls, tucking the blanket more tightly around himself and wondering what clothes he can grab without having to be naked for too long in front of Derek. He’s feeling really uncomfortable now and is gripped by a desperate need to run.

“Is that why you left?” Derek continues in a soft, weary voice. “Because you knew it’d hurt me?”

“Of course it’s fucking not,” Stiles barks, leaning down and grabbing the jeans he’d discarded earlier. “And you’re seriously going to throw _that_ at me? I left to go see my dad. Not everything I do is about you. Maybe it was once, but you’re really not that important to me anymore.”

Derek just shrugs, wearing a disbelieving, not to mention irritatingly smug expression, as he looks Stiles up and down.

“Don’t look at me like that. Even if I had left early just to hurt you, which I didn’t, just for the record, so what? You hurt me first.”

“And what? You thought an eye for an eye was the best approach?”

“Sure, why not. Seems to work for you,” Stiles snaps, deciding that he doesn’t care that he’s naked and gets out of bed, turning his back on Derek as he bends to pull on his jeans.

“You’re messed up.

“Excuse me?” Stiles hisses as he tugs his jeans over his hips. “I’m messed up? Derek, you’re like the dictionary definition of fucked up. Seriously, if someone looked up massively-fucked up in the dictionary, your stupid face would be there brooding back at them.”

“At least I acknowledge it,” Derek retorts. “I’m not pretending I’m fine. That’s the difference between us.”

“Go on then, enlighten me. Why am I so fucking broken? Because I have one night stands? Newsflash Derek, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. Go ask anyone on campus. It’s college, you’re supposed to sleep around. And don’t fucking kid yourself and think I haven’t seen that look you get on your face, like I’m not allowed to mention the fact that I’ve had sex with someone besides you. You’re not my boyfriend; you’re not anything to me. I owe you precisely shit all,” He paused for breath, trying not to pay too much attention to the hurt expression on Derek’s face. “And even if you were my boyfriend, I still wouldn’t owe you anything and you still wouldn’t have any right to pass judgment on my sex life.”

“I’m not judging –“ Derek starts.

“Shut up. You think I’m fucked up because I don’t do relationships? Well guess what, you can consider that thoroughly your fault. That shouldn’t be too hard, considering that ridiculous fucking martyr complex of yours.”

“You know what Stiles? No. You don’t get to blame me for your messed up view on relationships just because I turned you down. Once.”

“Once? You turned me down plenty of times, you only told me to very firmly fuck off once,” Stiles barks, curling his hands into fists and digging his fingernails into the palms of his hand to stop himself from lashing out.

“And how many times did Lydia shut you down? How much blame does she get for your attitude?”

“I wasn’t –“ Stiles starts, pausing for a minute to try and get his breathing back under control. “I wasn’t in love with Lydia like I was with you.” He’s very annoyed to feel the hot flush spreading across his cheeks and is convinced that Derek will take it as a sign that he might still feel that way.

“So you thought you were in love with me? So what? What does that have to do with you not having relationships now?”

“A whole fucking lot,” Stiles barks. “And don’t you dare fucking patronize me like that. I knew exactly what I felt for you and maybe you taught me a valuable lesson. Don’t fall in love with people. It’s not worth it.”

“That isn’t what you really think.” Derek tells him with a smug, certain smile.

“Like you know what I really think. You don’t know me anymore Derek.”

“Because you’ve changed so much in a year and a half,” Derek replies sarcastically. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that’s how you actually feel.”

“This is the most stupid fucking argument I’ve ever had. You know what happens when you love someone? People tell you to fuck off, or stay with stupid dickbags even though they’re murderous lizard monsters or they just fucking die on you, OK? So don’t get pissy at me if love is something I kind of don’t want anything to do with.”

“Who died?”

“No one. Nothing.”

“You’re talking about your mom.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles snaps, finally uncurling his fists and rubbing roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand. The last thing he wants to do right now is cry in front of Derek. “Fuck off. You don’t get to talk about her.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Stiles turns his back on Derek and snatches a clean hoodie from his closet, dragging it over his head and getting annoyed when it gets caught on his ear. When he finally untangles himself and gets his head through the neck, Derek’s watching him with a concerned expression, no doubt picking up on his racing pulse.

“Where are you going?” Derek asks quietly as Stiles moves towards the door.

“I don’t know. Away. Anywhere. Somewhere that doesn’t have you there.”

“Stiles…”

“Shut up. Just shut up. And get out of my house while you’re at it.”

“No, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t. I’m leaving.”

He reaches the door, only to have Derek grab hold of his arm before he can actually leave the room. He glances from Derek’s hand to his face a few times, until he takes the hint and lets go, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“If you follow me, I’ll hurt you,” Stiles tells him.

“You can’t hurt me,” Derek reminds him in what he seems to think is a reasonable tone of voice.

“Wanna bet on that? I bet Deucalion thought I couldn’t hurt him too.”

Derek inhales sharply at that and Stiles takes advantage of his moment of distraction to rush out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring Craig’s questions as he snatches up the keys to the Jeep and tears out of the house, pausing only to jam his feet into his sneakers on his way out of the door. He’s fairly certain that Derek is following him but doesn’t turn around, just gets into the Jeep as quickly as possible and guns the engine. Once he gets onto the main road, he makes a quick decision and heads towards the community forest, not caring how late it’s getting and that hanging out in the forest might not be the best idea he’s ever had. He just wants to get away from Derek.

**::**

It doesn’t take long for Derek to find him; Stiles isn’t really sure why he thought it would.

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmurs, scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt, his gaze firmly fixed on the forest floor.

“Don’t care,” Stiles mutters, hugging his knees more tightly against his chest. He buries his face against his arms, and sees Derek crouch down in front of him, maintaining a healthy distance between them.

“Stiles, I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I’m still not interested, Derek.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing.”

“Again, not interested.”

“I’m sorry for what I said about your mom,” Derek said softly, sitting down Indian style in front of Stiles.

“Maybe you’re right,” Stiles murmurs, his voice muffled by his arms. “Maybe I am all fucked up.”

“No more than anyone else.”

“Not what you said before.”

Derek doesn’t reply and Stiles raises his head slightly to look at him. Derek’s staring down at the ground, one claw extended as he picks at a rock embedded in the dirt. He looks younger than Stiles has ever seen him and he ducks his head again to hide the smile that’s creeping across his face as he watches Derek. He doesn’t want to be thinking about Derek looking cute or young or sweet, he wants to still be mad at him and is frustrated that his anger towards him is dissipating so quickly.

“We’re just going to keep having this same argument over and over, aren’t we?”

“That’s kind of up to you,” Derek replies softly. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Yeah well I don’t want particularly want to argue with you either. Your stupid face just makes me feel argumentative.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing all the time. It’s weird.”

Derek pulls a face, like he feels like he should be saying sorry again before looking back at the rock he’s picking at, turning it over in his hand a few times before hurling it deep into the woods.

“I’m sorry –“ he starts, scowling when Stiles makes a frustrated tutting noise. “Shut up. I’m sorry I keep telling you I like you when you don’t feel the same way. It’s a pretty dick move. Maybe I hoped if I told you enough you’d change your mind.”

Stiles stays quiet, waiting to see if Derek is going to say anything else; to his surprise he doesn’t, but stands up instead, turning his back on Stiles as though he’s about to disappear back into the forest.

“I do, you know,” Stiles mumbles as he gets to his feet and brushes dirt from his hands. “I do still Ike you. Not like I did before, but I’d kind of forgotten you can be a decent human being when it suits you.”

Derek turns slightly and scoffs at him, flashing him a quick smirk.

“Whatever. You know what I mean. Playing the werewolf card is old and tired and worn out. I hate that you’ve reminded me of all the good things about you. I’d sort of got used to hating your ass.”

“Sorry.”

Stiles frowns at him for a moment before muttering under his breath, “you should be. It’s very inconvenient.”

As he watches, Derek looks down at the ground again, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he kicks at the dirt with the heel of his boot. “So what do we do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“About this. Me and you. Think you’d ever want a relationship?” He mumbles the last word and frowns down at his shoes before looking back up at Stiles. “With me?”

Stiles sighs, wondering who the hell taught Derek to look so damn vulnerable and earnest because he’s pretty sure that look is going to be the death of him some day soon. “I don’t know,” He admits finally, wedging his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh.”

“Part of me really wants to,” He adds, stiffening when Derek extends one hand and rests it on his shoulder, taking a small step forward. When Derek doesn’t remove his hand, he takes a few deep breaths and forces himself to relax. “But dude, we’re both pretty fucked up people. Do you honestly, hand on heart, think we’d ever actually work?”

“So we’re both kind of fucked up,” Derek replies as he squeezes his shoulder lightly. “Maybe it’s a universal balance thing. Maybe we’re both fucked up enough that it cancels it out.”

“You realize you sound like me, right?” Stiles laughs drily. “And also that two wrongs kind of don’t make a right.”

Derek shrugs and takes a step closer to him, his hand slipping from Stiles’ shoulder to his bicep.

“Not to mention,” Stiles continues, swallowing thickly, “That you’ve been pulling bitch faces every time I’ve talked about sleeping with people before. You don’t trust me. How the hell would it even work?”

“I trust you,” Derek replies simply.

“Derek, you don’t trust anyone. It’s like your thing.”

“My thing?”

“Yeah, you know, your thing. Like how, uh, oh! How Allison’s thing is shooting arrows into shit or Peter’s thing is being a big bag of dicks. Not trusting people is your thing. Not trusting people and being a jackass.”

“I trust you,” Derek repeats. “If we got – if anything…I’d trust you.”

Stiles looks at him and frowns, wondering why being told something as simple as Derek trusts him is making him want to wrap his arms around him and kiss him. It must show on his face because the next thing he knows is Derek is letting go of his arm, his hands on either side of Stiles’ face as he pulls him into a kiss. Stiles is vaguely aware that he should pull away, shouldn’t let himself get drawn further into whatever the hell this is between them but finds himself fisting his hands in Derek’s shirt and keeping a tight hold on his hips as he returns the kiss, sucking and biting at Derek’s bottom lip as his hands move up into his hair.

“Will you at least think about it?” Derek murmurs when they break apart, resting his forehead against Stiles’ and sliding his hands from his hair to the back of his neck. “Please?”

Stiles worries at his lower lip for a minute, unsure of what to say. Part of him wants to throw caution to the wind and say yeah, fuck it, let’s see what happens. Two years ago he’d have said yes in a heartbeat but thankfully his brain at least seems to be acting rationally and as he wraps his arms around Derek’s waist, hugging him like it might be the last chance he gets, he hears himself murmuring a vague promise to at least think about what Derek’s asking of him. That’s apparently enough for Derek and he returns Stiles’ hug, encircling his shoulders with his arms and squeezing just this side of too tight.

And then Derek’s burying his face against his neck and humming contentedly; Stiles can feel his breath tickling his neck and doesn’t loosen his grip on Derek. It occurs to him that the last time he felt this conflicted was right before he actually admitted to Derek that he liked him as more than, well, whatever kind of friends they’d been before. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but had finally done so at Scott’s never ending insistence about how he’d feel better if he knew for sure one way or another. Derek moves his head slightly, jerking Stiles out of his little moment of reminiscing; he pulls back a little when Derek presses a soft kiss against the side of his throat and shakes his head, feeling guilty when he sees the hurt look Derek shoots at him.

“I –“ Stiles starts, disentangling himself from Derek’s embrace. “This is just confusing things more. Confusing me I mean. I kind of need time of think about all this.”

Derek nods shortly and backs away a little, his expression returning to closed off and guarded as he turns and heads back towards the road. Stiles trails along behind him, scuffing the toes of his sneakers in the dirt as he walks; he’s annoyed with himself for feeling guilty for not immediately falling into Derek’s arms like he wants.

“I shouldn’t feel guilty you know!” He covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes going wide when he realizes he’s just said that out loud and that Derek is turning round to look at him, a quizzical expression on his face.

“I never said you should?”

“Your sad face is making me feel guilty.”

“What sad face?”

“The one you were pulling,” Stiles mumbles. Derek frowns at him for a moment before shrugging and turning away again, leaving Stiles standing there feeling like an idiot. Sighing loudly to himself, he starts walking again, raising an eyebrow when they reach the cars and he sees the Camaro, parked badly next to the Jeep

“I was in a hurry,” Derek mutters in annoyance when he catches Stiles smirking at it. “You don’t have a lot of luck in forests. Thought you might get yourself eaten.”

“It’s a tiny forest. There’s nothing in there that can eat me,” Stiles says confidently as he unlocks the Jeep, his confidence wavering when Derek raises an eyebrow. “Is there?”

“The preserve at home isn’t exactly massive,” Derek says with a small smirk. “And look what happened to Scott…”

“Yeah, that’s entirely Peter’s fault, not mine,” Stiles grouses as he clambers into the Jeep. “Get in your stupid car, would you?”

Derek gives him the finger but gets in the aforementioned stupid car, gunning the engine and apparently waiting for Stiles to pull away from the edge of the road first. He can’t stop glancing in his rear view mirror at the Camaro as he wonders what the hell is going to happen when they get back to the house and figures that he should at least try and use the drive home to try and make sense of his confused feelings towards Derek.

All too soon, he’s pulling up onto the drive way and getting out of the Jeep to watch Derek as he parks up the Camaro down the street. As Stiles unlocks the front door, Derek calls his name, coming to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps and looking up at him.

“You’re not coming in?”

“I don’t think so,” Derek replies, shaking his head and running his hand over the smooth wood of the handrail a few times as he looks away from Stiles. “You still need more time to think. Don’t want to confuse you more.”

“Oh.”

“So…”

“So?”

Derek shrugs, glancing over his shoulder towards the Camaro and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Stiles sighs loudly and heads for the couch on the porch, throwing himself down on it and rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t want you to go just yet,” Stiles admits as Derek watches him for a minute longer before slowly climbing the three steps onto the porch. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can stay a little while longer.”

Derek sits down beside him, staring into the middle distance as Stiles continues to glare down at the weathered wood beneath them. He kicks off his sneakers, putting one foot up on the edge of the couch and hugging his knee against his chest.

“You really think it’d work? You and me?”

“Only one way to find out,” Derek replies slowly and Stiles tries to pretend that he can’t hear the eager note in his voice.

“Lot of reasons not to find out though,” Stiles says after a thoughtful pause. “I like you, OK? I thought about it all the way back and that I should at least be honest about that. I think I really like you. Again. And then I kind of started thinking about all the reasons why we should maybe try and make a go of things, but then I remembered of all the reasons why we shouldn’t and that list was kind of much longer.”

“What reasons?”

“You really think it’s the best basis for starting a relationship with someone? Hating each other for years and then sleeping together, before any of the other stuff?”

“I never hated you.”

“Yes you did.”

“No, you pissed me off, but I never hated you.”

“Whatever. It’s still not exactly the best way to get together. Never mind that we live three hours apart and all that.”

“So I’d drive up and see you.”

Stiles shakes his head and fidgets uncomfortably for moment. “I’m not telling you this so you can try and talk me into changing my mind you know, I’m telling you this because I’m honestly not convinced this would work.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Dude, do you even know what my track record of relationships is? I’m like the worst person in the whole universe to date. I’ve had like three ‘proper’ relationships and I bailed on all of those in like a month. I’m just…I’m fucked up.”

Derek huffs in frustration, glaring at him and cutting him off before he can say anything else.

“I get it, Stiles, I really do,” Derek says quietly, reaching for Stiles’ hand and tangling their fingers together. “You said it yourself already. There’s too much going on right now. You’re in college, you shouldn’t have to settle down yet if you don’t want to. That’s not fucked up. That’s normal.”

Stiles doesn’t reply, just stares down at their hands as he distracts himself by rubbing his thumb over Derek’s knuckles. He wants to say something, anything, but for once, his stupid mouth, which usually has an answer for everything, is refusing to co-operate.

“I’ll,” Derek starts, shifting uncomfortably before turning towards Stiles slightly until his knee is brushing against Stiles’ own. “I really like you Stiles, and before you point it out to me, yeah, I know how corny this is going to sound, but I’ll wait, OK? Until you’re ready.”

“OK” Stiles finally manages to get out.

“I should go,” Derek adds as he gives Stiles’ hand one last squeeze before pulling his own away. “Will you call me? If you want to talk about – about anything? About –” He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “If you’re ready? Yeah?”

Stiles nods dumbly, watching Derek as he stands and shrugs on his jacket.

“I’ll see you then,” Derek lifts his hand for moment, looking as though he’s going to reach out and touch Stiles but then lets it drop back down by his side, turning away and walking hurriedly down the three steps of the porch and down the street towards the Camaro. He feels as though his thoughts are racing along at a hundred miles an hour, while Derek looks like he’s walking in slow motion. As he watches Derek dig in his jacket pockets for his keys, he scrabbles in his own pocket for his cell, dialing a number he hasn’t called for over a year.

He looks away towards the other end of the block, not wanting to see if Derek picks up or not. Much to his relief, he does and he hears a confused “Stiles?” as he stares fixedly at the bleeding heart plant across the street and takes a deep breath.

“Ready,” He says quietly before ending the call and dropping his cell down on the porch beside him.

  _ **~ fin ~**_  


**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/) :)


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